Harry Potter and the Alliance of Blood
by Allika
Summary: On Hiatus. Dumbledore has made an alliance, with Harry as the bargaining piece. The Daywalkers have risen again, and they brought their new Prince with them. HPDM slash. Vampire!Draco, Maturing finally!Harry.
1. Chapter One

**A.N. Read this! **For whatever reason, I am suddenly inspired to actually work on this! (partially thanks to blueyesangel1186, and mainly to almost every single person who's reviewed, and the several who have begged for an update over and over). Sorry for the delay. I could give you a bunch of excuses, but it boils down to the review from curlytop shook my confidence, then I was busy with a move, and then I took a creat. writing class and realized that this needed work. I have been procrastinating said work for quite some time, and now that it's summer, I think its time to get something done. Ten thousand apologies. Please forgive me for the delay.

Okay, this is the second revision of the first chapter. I've actually changed some details, relevant to the story that might cause confusion later if you don't know of them. I recommend rereading the conversation with Dumbeldore on, as I haven't made any changes to the first 'scene'. Oh, I got rid of that fainting bit (looking back, I can't believe I wrote that).

_**Harry Potter and the Alliance of Blood**_

**Chapter 1**

Harry sat patiently in the living room of Number Four Privet Drive, his trunk resting on the floor in front of the sofa and Hedwig in her cage on top of it. He had been rather rudely awakened at 5 o'clock that morning by a barn owl. The owl carried a hasty-looking missive from Dumbledore that basically said, among the how-are-yous and we'll discuss this soon-s, that he had to come to Hogwarts _now_ and he was to be ready to go by eight. Someone would floo over and bring Harry back to the school. It was 7:59. Promptly, a rushing noise came from the fireplace Harry had cleared in preparation for his deliverer, and moments later a very dusty-looking Remus Lupin stumbled out. He gave Harry a warm smile.

"Hello, Harry. Ready to go?" he asked, not bothering to brush himself off as he walked forward. Vernon and Petunia stared at him from the kitchen doorway, looking utterly horrified. Dudley was conspicuously absent. Of course, when Harry told them he'd be leaving through their fireplace again, they hadn't dared to protest lest they incur some displeasure from one of Harry's wizarding friends.

"Hello, Remus," Harry replied quietly with a weak smile, standing and taking hold of his trunk. After a few days of utter solitude (Harry didn't consider the Dursleys company), the events of the year had jumped back into Harry's mind uninvited, and inevitably melancholy had invaded... and rage. Harry was used to anger, he felt it all the time (he was a teenager after all), but this blinding, blood freezing rage was so much more intense. It would come upon him inexplicably, with thoughts of Sirius, Dumbledore...anything really. When Harry felt it, he was quite sure that in that moment, he could conjure up enough hate and pain to cast the Cruciatus...or even something much more permanent. He was so fucking _tired_ of death, of people dying because of him. His parents, Cedric... Sirius. And he was tired of being helpless, being kept in the dark so he could be protected. Tired of learning useless cooking charms instead of learning what he was slowly realizing he needed to know. He needed to know how to kill, and to hurt, and to withstand death and pain...something no one would be willing to teach him. He was afraid he would have to learn himself, the hard way, at the end of the wand of a Death Eater or Voldemort. He was…so afraid.

Harry blinked himself out of his reverie when he heard Remus speak.

"Hm?" he inquired absently.

"I said, I'll carry your trunk. It's nothing to me," Remus repeated, giving Harry a strange look. A thought occurred to Harry and he gave a rather wicked grin.

"Yeah, I don't guess it is, what with you being a _werewolf_ and all," Harry said, raising his voice slightly and shooting a look at the Dursleys. Remus chuckled.

"Woof woof," he muttered, giving a rather toothy smile to the Dursleys. Petunia let out a tiny shriek and hid her face against Vernon's shoulder. Harry's uncle turned a rather nauseating shade of grey.

"See you next summer," Harry trilled, lifting Hedwig's cage and standing by the fireplace. Remus took out his wand, muttered _"Incendio"_ at the grate as he pointed his wand (the revealing of which made Vernon whimper) and tossed some Floo powder into the flames.

"Harry, give me Hedwig. I can just Apparate to Hogwarts and let her fly to the Owlery," Remus said.

"But you can't Apparate on Hogwart's grounds," Harry pointed out.

"Hogwarts: A History?" Remus asked with a grin.

"Hermione." Harry corrected, smiling back.

"I'll go to the gates and walk the rest of the way."

"Well…okay." Harry handed the owl over.

"She probably wouldn't speak to me for months if I flooed her," Harry said. "I'll see you at Hogwarts, all right, Hedwig?" he cooed to the bird. He really was quite fond of her. The owl gave a soft hoot and nipped Harry's finger affectionately through the bars of her cage.

"Say 'Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts,' all right? He wants to see you immediately," Remus instructed as Harry started towards the flames. Harry felt his heart jump.

"Is everything all right?" he whispered fearfully. Was it Ron, Hermione, Hagrid…? Before he could think of any more names, Remus gave a sigh.

"No one's hurt, if that's what you mean. Other than that..." Remus's shoulders rose and feel in a helpless shrug. Harry felt the anger start to build, but he forced it down. It wasn't Remus's fault Dumbledore insisted on continuing to keep secrets.

"All right," Harry said with a sigh, and stepped into the flames, intoning his destination clearly. As he experienced again the less-than-pleasant sensation of flooing, Harry wondered just what could_ possibly _go wrong now, and then wished he hadn't as his brain began to conjure up scenarios.

When Harry brought himself to his feet in the room that the revolving staircase arrived, he was rather glad he didn't have company. Harry could feel the awful anger at the edge of his mind, building and biding its time like an awful wave, ready to wash over him in a burning rush. He cleaned himself off as best he could and knocked on the door to Dumbledore's office. There was a faint 'come in' and Harry pushed open the door. It was a familiar sight by now -- Dumbledore sitting behind his desk, the instruments around the room and dazzling array of metal, noise, and smell, Fawkes sitting on his perch, looking small and mostly bald. Harry supposed he had recently died.

"Hello Harry. Please sit down," Dumbledore greeted, gesturing to the seat pulled in front of his desk. Harry closed the door and sat down, looking at the Headmaster patiently, who was currently studying his hands folded on his desk. Harry was reminded again just how old Dumbledore was, because he looked so tired and worn. Harry felt that anger disipating as if it had never been there. He couldn't feel angry when Dumbledore looked so upset. After a moment, the Headmaster sighed and looked up at Harry.

"I have done something I don't enjoy, Harry. I regret it because I have meddled in your life again. But I had to do it. The task was distasteful, but it was necessary," the Headmaster began, paused, then continued again, his voice a mixture of urgency and sadness.

"You are not a child anymore, Harry Potter. Something that took me a long time to realize." Another pause. Those blue eyes were not twinkling. They held a look of such determination and seriousness that Harry was taken aback.

"This is war, Harry. In war, sacrifices and hard decisions must be made. Difficult, but necessary decisions. You will hold a position of authority once the battle between Darkness and Light becomes more straightforward, something I wanted to avoid, but have resigned myself to. I have finally realized, after the events of last year, that because of who you are, those traits that make you so suitable for Gryffindor House, will never allow you to take a back seat in this battle." Albus Dumbledore stopped speaking again, looking at Harry, an unreadable expression in his eyes. Harry didn't know what to say. He felt a profound relief that Dumbledore was actually taking him seriously, sorrow that he was the reason for the usually merry man's resigned voice, and a mixture of curiosity and dread of what might come next. After a long moment, Dumbledore spoke again.

"In the war, you will have to make decisions such as I have had to make. It is likely many of these decisions will force you to sacrifice lives for the greater good. Of course, I'm underestimating you again. I'm forgetting those qualities you possess which almost made you a member of Slytherin." Harry eyes widened at that statement, and he began to protest, before he realized the futility of it. One couldn't fool Dumbledore, and he realized rather abruptly that he was a little tired of fooling himself as well. He _would_ have been a good Slytherin. He remained silent.

"I only need to look in your eyes to realize that you know what you have to do. You might be preparing yourself for it. And if you are not, you will have to. The battle _must_ end this time, Harry, because my time is running short, and I might not be around for the next rising of Voldemort, and I fear...oh I do fear it... what will happen if I am not here to provide a hope for the wizarding world. Because the hope others hold for your success is based entirely on your successes that were acquired through luck and others underestimating you. You are not ready to face this on your own. Maybe one day you will be, though I shudder to think of it, but not yet, Harry Potter."

The room fell into a silence so deep that Harry was sure he could hear the beating of his own heart. He ignored Dumbledore's gaze and looked at the empty portrait of Sirius's ancestor, and wondered what was going on at Grimmauld Place. He picked up and discarded several emotions like rocks unsuitable for skipping. He wondered how he _really_ felt. Surprise and a strange happiness of Dumbledore's frankness, dread of what could have brought all this on, and sadness, as he looked at the empty portrait and remembered yet again what his ignorance and blindness, and Dumbledore's fear--for it had been fear that had stayed his tongue--had cost him... and Sirius. Harry decided that he would never make another mistake like that again, and he slowly let go of his hesitation, his longing for a normal life of Quidditch, Hogsmeade, and Halloween feasts, and his need to be his father, to be the kind, gentle, horribly and falsely innocent Harry Potter, Gryffindor, warrior of the Light. He knew that that would never win a war. He had to be who he was; the strong, brave, almost-clever and -cautious Boy Who Lived, Gryffindor with Slytherin tendencies, warrior of the Light who would have to step into the Grey, and toe the line of and dip his fingers in the bottomless black lake that was the Dark.

"All right," Harry said, inhaling a large breath, and exhaling it slowly as he met Dumbledore's eyes, putting all of the determination and understanding he could in his eyes. Dumbledore gave an imperceptible nod, and he looked slightly pleased, and hopeful.

"So. What was it you needed to tell me, Headmaster?" Harry asked with a casualness he didn't feel.

Dumbledore began, "The vampires you study in your Defense Against the Dark Arts class are completely Dark creatures. Voldemort offered them limitless blood of innocents to them for their aid, an offer that they did not refuse, unsurprisingly. I could offer them no better. They are literally soulless creatures. I didn't bother to attempt to acquire their aid. Even if they did agree to an acceptable arrangement, they would probably turn at the last moment. But another group came to my attention, a clan of creatures that have for so long remained silent that they are hardly in books any more. I was always aware of their presence, but they have for so long remained a neutral party that I didn't dare approach them. Instead, they approached me, because they saw that they could not remain neutral on this issue, and they had no interest in joining the Dark Lord, who could offer them nothing. I, however, could." He paused, looking as if he was steeling himself for what was to come. Harry broke in.

"So what exactly are these creatures?" Harry asked, not letting the sense of foreboding he had creep into his voice. Dumbledore looked at him a long moment before replying.

"Daywalkers. Supernatural speed, strength, and senses. Nocturnal creatures that can and will venture into the light of day. They are the ultimate fighters. One of them could defeat fifteen vampires. That was why I had to have them on our side, because if Voldemort acquired their services somehow, this battle would be inevitably lost." Harry nodded, absorbing that, and he approved of Dumbledore's decision for the moment. Harry realized though, his an inward bitter smile, that the decision had already been made, and he would just be fresh out of luck if he didn't agree.

"What did they want?" Harry asked the dreaded question quietly, not able to keep the fear from his voice.

Dumbledore sighed again. "First you have to understand a few things. A new leader of the Daywalkers is selected every three generations, based on the instructions of a Seer who determines who the leader needs to be. In your father's generation, the Seer said that the leader that was needed wouldn't be born until the next generation. The leader of the time, Gabriel, therefore kept his position. Now, the new leader has been born and has come of age, and he would ascend the throne except for one thing." The Headmaster stopped again, and Harry almost let out an exasperated huff.

"What one thing?" Harry asked impatiently. The drawing out really was making it worse.

"For a Daywalker to come into his or her power completely, they need to acquire their...soulmate. They are born for one other person who will be their main supply of blood, who provides them will love, physical satisfaction, and comfort. Another person is born for them who has the capacity to provide all of these things. The other person must be a witch or wizard, and a gifted one, because the Daywalkers don't just feed on blood. They feed on your very life force, and your magic. Those who are born who are able to replenish their magic in a matter of minutes or hours rather than days, weeks, or months as is normal are capable of mating with a Daywalker. And though the Daywalkers aren't very...prudish, they can only reproduce with their mates after the mate has been turned, which is why the population is merely in the hundreds. The next leader, who shall be called the Prince, knows his mate, but the situation is rather delicate, considering the identities of the pair. And that's why they came to me, Harry, because they knew that I had access to the one thing they wanted and needed more than blood or power." Harry exhaled, clenching his fists tightly, realizing Dumbledore wasn't going to finish, that he _couldn't_.

"And, what, exactly, Headmaster, is that?" Harry asked quietly, breathily, his fear rising up and taking over in a cold wave through his soul, because he already knew the answer.

"You."

"_Oh_," Harry breathed, even though he knew it was coming. The cold was rushing through him so fast and he couldn't breath, and his vision wavered as the lights in the room flickered. His breath was coming unbearably fast, and the world slowed for a moment before everything came back into focus. Dumbledore regarded him in concern from across the desk.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Dumbledore asked quietly, looking very sad. Harry nodded.

"It just...came as a shock, you know," Harry replied quietly.

"I imagine it did," Dumbledore replied. After a moment, he looked Harry in the eye. You have the rest of the summer before you meet the Prince, whose identity I will leave for him to reveal." Harry realized suddenly, feeling very silly, that he had just _got _that another boy was who he would be "mated" with. Harry clapped a hand over his eyes and held back a dismayed groan. Oh, the Daily Prophet was just going to _adore_ this new development. Witches' Weekly was going to have a field day bemoaning the fact that Harry Potter was unattainable, and a sudden rush of fear hit Harry again when he realized he didn't know how the wizarding world felt about such things. He hadn't really noticed romances too much, being too engrossed in Quidditch and his latest death-defying stunt, and admittedly terribly naive about the whole dating thing, which showed in the way the Cho thing had turned out. And he could just _imagine_ a badge courtesy of Draco Malfoy saying something like: The Boy Who Lived to Shag Other Boys, oh yeah, that's Harry Potter.

"Just in case you were concerned, 20 of the wizarding population is homosexual, and it's really quite the norm. Surely you noticed all those couples at the Yule Ball...or maybe not," Dumbledore smiled when Harry shot him an embarrassed look, and his eyes gave a twinkle," You were quite an awful dancer." Harry couldn't help it, he laughed, and he hoped, somehow, everything would be ok. Harry looked at the Headmaster seriously.

"I think I need to start being told things about the war more. And I think I need some lessons...on how to really fight. Because next time, _expelliarmus_ won't work. And I need to know good defense against spells... especially Unforgivable ones. I need to know a way to fight if I don't have a wand. I need to become an animagus." Harry paused. "There's so_ much_ I need to learn, and we're running out of time." He looked up at Dumbledore in a kind of dawning horror.

"I have wasted so much _time_. If I had just _thought_ I could have defeated him that night, Headmaster. But I was helpless," Harry whispered, his voice full of despair. He looked at Dumbledore, who was regarding him with a sad look again.

"I don't want to be helpless ever again," Harry said, his voice hard as steel and very determined. Dumbledore just looked at him in that searching way for a long time before he nodded.

"I'll make the arrangements. You're right, Harry. Time has been wasted." There was a silence, as they both regarded each other across the desk. Harry was hit, then, by a realization. The Headmaster considered him...an ally, and he had spoken of sacrifices to Harry as he would an equal. He felt pride wash over him.

"Perhaps you should go to bed. We will discuss this more at a later time. The password to the Tower is 'hybiscus.'" Harry scowled. Of course, he was still a teenager, and he hated to be reminded of it.

It wasn't until some time later, after an annoyingly lengthly conversation with the Fat Lady, that Harry realized that Dumbledore had never exactly said when the Daywalkers had contacted him, and he wondered how much of his life had been planned, and how much had been a lie. He let that dangerous--and delicious--rage wash over him again for several minutes, as he sat in the window seat staring blindly at the sky, and he didn't notice the pattern of ice that traced across his window, nor the frost that gathered in the water jug, and he certainly didn't notice the figure standing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, looking precisely up at the silhouette of a person in the dim window of one of the towers, and smiling until the dim light went out, before vanishing into the dark depths of the woods, where more than Acromantulas, werewolves, and unicorns lurked.

XXXXXX

Whew! What a ride! I daresay it's my best work. Definitely better than my unfortunately discarded first attempts.

Sooooo...Yes?No?Maybe?Whatever? I mean, is it so horrible you wanna puke, or so wonderful you want to cry and kiss my feet...maybe not.

Please Review

Allika


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer (which I forgot last time. eek! I hope I don't get sued): I do not own any of the characters invented by a certain goddess by the name of J.K. Rowling, nor would I ever even think of stealing said wonderful characters from said goddess.

**A.N. Read this! **A revision of chapter two, spellchecked, small altered details. I recommend rereading. (Of course, I might just be self promoting.)

_**Harry Potter and the Alliance of Blood**_

**Chapter 2**

When Harry woke up staring at the crimson curtains of his bed, he couldn't help but grin goofily. He was at _home_, his real home, and he had only to stand the Dursleys for one more summer before he was free. It was such a surreal situation that Harry really couldn't quite grasp it, but he was very sure he could get used to it. He let out a small chuckle before rolling out of bed and going to stand by his window. The Fat Lady had told him he would be dining as usual in the Great Hall with all the present teachers and two students who were staying that summer. Harry supposed that they were orphans with really nowhere to go, but he still had to hold off his anger that Dumbledore hadn't allowed him to stay when he _knew_ that the Dursleys treated him horribly. He let out a sigh as he focused on the ground. The squid was sailing lazily over the surface of the lake, the birds were singing, and it was all in all a beautiful summer day. The wizarding clock on the wall showed the time as 9:30, and he hoped breakfast was served later in the summer. He dressed in blue jeans and a blue shirt that he had acquired from money earned gardening for his neighbors for the first couple of weeks of summer, while the Dursley's were frequently out of the house, presumably to escape him. However, after Petunia noticed the few items he'd purchased, she'd started telling the neighbors where Harry went during the school year, and he hadn't gotten any more offers of employment.

After running a hand through his hair (more out of habit to attempt to fix it than an actual attempt to fix it) he departed for the Great Hall. He walked more slowly than usual, savoring being back in the familiar halls without the usual noise and stares. It was so very quiet Harry found himself walking faster, since it became slightly creepy.

The high table was in its usual place, and one regular sized dining room table was in the center of the room. A girl and a boy were sitting across from each other, talking between bites of food. The staff table was empty except for Professor Vector, who Harry had never bothered to get to know. The two looked up as Harry approached, and they looked vaguely familiar, as if he had passed them in the hall.

"Hi," the girl said, "I'm Katherine. Ravenclaw. This is Greg. He's from Slytherin." Harry gave a small smile and nodded, sitting down. He felt vaguely taken aback when he realized that Greg was a member of his "enemy house," but forced himself not to let his perceptions of a few people take over the whole group.

"Hi." Greg was looking at him rather strangely before he shrugged and looked away.

"Draco talks about you all the time," he commented quietly as Harry heaped a few sausages on his plate. Harry laughed.

"Yeah, I imagine he does. He rather loathes me. 'That Potter, prancing around the school like he's done something _amazing_. Oh, hey. Let's go kiss Voldie's toes,'" Harry mocked, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

"You guys are always at it. People talk about it, a lot," Katherine commented. Harry shrugged.

"We've hated each other from day one. Although, now I just kind of dislike him. Childish rivalries just don't seem important anymore. Of course, I was responsible for landing his father in Azkaban, so I guess I really can't blame him for hating me," Harry replied.

"He is rather attractive, though," she sighed. Harry choked on his juice.

"But he's a total prick!" he exclaimed, his cheeks slightly red. Greg smirked and rolled his eyes.

"That doesn't automatically make him have green skin and claws. And just because he is rude to you doesn't mean he can't be decent usually. I think he is towards the top of the greatest catch list of Hogwarts," he said. Harry suddenly noticed the feminine edge to Greg's voice, and the way his eyes got a dreamy look just like Katherine's. His cheeks got even pinker. Harry wondered just how many things he had missed in his naivety.

"What is it?" Katherine asked.

"What?" Harry asked, startled. She grinned.

"You had this frustrated look on your face." Harry blushed even more.

"Oh...uh... long story," he replied lamely, taking a sip of juice to distract himself. Greg opened his mouth apparently to say something, but Harry was saved by the opening of the Great Hall doors. A man walked in, and Harry's brain cells blinked, because he was in…leather pants. They were rather tight, and black, and Harry was sure that they were against the dress code. He found himself blushing uncontrollably. His hair was black and fell past his shoulders, and his eyes were a yellow so vivid Harry could see the color. He met the man's eyes and quickly looked away.

"That's Professor Gabriel, for Defense," Greg whispered. Harry looked quickly up at the teacher just in time to see him flash a smile that quite prominently displayed his fangs. Harry felt the blood draining from his face, and he felt a sudden overwhelming urge to run.

"Hi Greg, Katherine," Gabriel, Prince of the Daywalkers said, paused, and then continued more softly, "Harry Potter." The cold mixture of fear and rage was slowly approaching, and Harry forced himself to take a deep breath and keep it down.

"Hello, Professor Gabriel," Katherine and Greg chimed, both looking rather misty-eyed. Harry couldn't say anything.

"I wonder if I might have a word, Harry," Gabriel said, and Harry paled even more.

"Oh-uh... I..."

"I won't bite, I promise," Gabriel said, and Harry had the distinct impression he was being laughed at, which served to make him angry.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied stiffly, his eyes going distant, a look he had perfected for when Snape was harking on him. He knew it unsettled his Potions Professor, and was hoping it could gain him some caution from the Daywalker. Gabriel smiled slowly, and Harry saw Katherine and Greg exchange a glance. He didn't doubt that they would burst into giggles once the Professor was out of earshot.

"Follow me," Gabriel said, and Harry rose with a small goodbye wave of his hand to Greg and Katherine and followed him back out the Great Hall doors. As they walked, Gabriel seemed content to remain silent, and Harry refused to say anything. This...person and his people were responsible for him losing control of yet another aspect of his life. They reached the Defense classroom after about five minutes, and Gabriel led the way up the short staircase to his office.

"Have a seat, Harry," Gabriel said with a gesture to the chair in front of his desk. The Daywalker didn't sit behind his desk, however, but perched on the edge. He seemed perfectly relaxed and at ease, something Harry could not mimic.

"All right. Albus asked me to tell you a few things. I wanted to inform you that you will not return to your relatives without a full escort, because it is no longer safe," he said. He spoke slowly, languidly, as if he had all the time in the world and didn't care he was making someone wait. Kind of like Malfoy. Harry immediatly labeled the man as arrogant, but tried not to feel to much dislike. He'd didn't know Gabriel, after all.

"Why?" Harry inquired, forcing himself to be serious when all he wanted to do was jump in jubilation. Never go back to the Dursley's? No more starvation, accusations of freakishness, sneers, taunts, abuse, and endless chores? It was a miracle Harry had wanted for a very long time, and yet it was so very ironic that a person he was inclined to dislike was the one to inform him of it.

"The charm which granted you safety was created in a time when the head of the family had complete ownership and control of minors. So, in a way, it granted your uncle complete rights and ownership of you. Now, however, you belong to the Prince. The charm dissolved the moment Albus made the deal, which was the night before last," Gabriel said very matter-of-factly. Harry was outraged. He didn't _belong_ to anybody! He opened his mouth to protest at a very loud volume, but Gabriel cut him off.

"Yes, yes. You don't literally belong to him. In a figurative sense, only. Don't be so high strung," Gabriel said in a teasing voice, rolling his eyes.

"I'm not 'high strung.' I just don't appreciate the fact that I'm considered _property_," Harry ground out, the rage rising in him rapidly, and he was not inclined to hold it back. He didn't like that his concerns seemed so insignificant that they rated an eye roll. Gabriel was looking at him rather strangely.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked, his head tilted slightly to the side.

"What?" Harry snapped. He was so _angry_. Things were starting to lose focus, and he wanted badly just to lash out at something.

"You're calling your power. It takes an average witch or wizard intense training and concentration to call their raw magic forward. How long have you been able to do it?" Harry felt the anger melting away in his confusion.

"I don't know what you mean," he said, blinking rapidly as everything shifted back into focus. It was gone, just like that. Gabriel was looking confused, and slightly awed.

"Just now, you were calling power. How did you feel?" Harry looked at him for a moment before looking at his lap, suddenly feeling slightly ashamed. He still sort of felt he shouldn't have such dark feelings.

"Angry. Not just mad, but...enraged. Like I could, I dunno, kill someone. And it was cold. Like I could do awful things and not even care," Harry whispered. He felt a growing horror. Maybe he had more in common with Voldemort than anyone knew.

"Well, as mate to our Prince, we knew you would be powerful. But you have so _much_, and you use it so easily. It really is quite amazing." Yes, there was definitely awe in the Professor's voice. Harry was silent.

"I'll have to tell Dumbledore, and we can figure out what to do. Until then, I still have some things to discuss with you. This will not just be a leisurely summer. You requested to learn several things. You will be taught swordplay by myself and a few others, since you expressed a wish to not be defenseless without your wand. Resisting Unforgiveables will be covered in Advanced Defense, because I have been given an official sanction from the Ministry. Minerva McGonnagal has offered to help you learn to be an Animagus. And, of course, you need to know how to duel with Death Eaters." Here, Gabriel paused, looking hesitant and uncomfortable for the first time during the proceedings.

"There are some things that you need to know that do not have a Ministry sanction. You don't have to learn them if you don't want to, of course, but Albus recommends it." Gabriel paused again. "You need to know how to kill, and disarm, and cause pain. When we finally fight, Death Eaters won't use legal curses. I have asked him, and Severus agreed to teach you." Harry stared at Gabriel for a long time, thinking rapidly. He had thought, just yesterday, exactly what Gabriel was telling him, and yet he was afraid. It was said that Dark magic could be addictive, and Harry was afraid of what he would become if he started using it. What if he ended up as insane as Tom Marvolo Riddle? But...he had to know, because if he failed, the whole world could fall. Harry nodded.

"I'll learn. But Snape loathes me," he said, trying to lighten the moment, though he was hesitant. Gabriel grinned rather mischievously, which puzzled Harry.

"He'll be nice. I made him promise," Gabriel said with a chuckle. Harry laughed.

"But he really hates me. I don't think there's anything anyone could do to make him be 'nice,'" Harry said. Another wicked grin.

"Oh, there's plenty of things I can do to make Severus do anything my little heart desires," Gabriel said in a rather flighty voice. Harry choked on several images that he _really_ didn't want to see. The Daywalker smiled down at him, and Harry hoped to any gods that existed that what he was thinking _wasn't_ true. It was just too much. Gabriel laughed.

"Minerva wanted to see you. Lessons can start tonight. Meet me here at seven," Gabriel said, and Harry quickly took the opportunity to run, before the Professor dropped any more innuendoes that his overactive teenage imagination could interpret badly.

The door to McGonnagal's office was open, and she was sitting at her desk, frowning at a sheet of parchment as if it had insulted her. Harry knocked timidly on the doorframe, and she looked up, blinked, and gave a smile.

"Mr. Potter. How nice to see you. Come in and we'll get started," she said in a friendly manner, and Harry obeyed her command, albeit cautiously. McGonnagal was usually much more stern. She stood up and walked around her desk, looking at him for a long time. Her scrutiny made him uncomfortable, and he found himself shifting his feet like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

"All right, Potter. This is how it works. You can't choose you Animagus form. Your form will be whatever form it is. Once we figure out what it is, we can start trying to transform you. It takes extreme relaxation, and a force of magic to change your form, along with firm concentration. The hard part will be finding your correct form. We probably won't guess right the first time. After you attempt to transform, and we picked the wrong animal, your magical energy will be depleted for days, which is why we need to get this in as few tries as possible. This will probably take months, maybe even a year. Is this all making sense so far, and do you still want to do it?" McGonnagal stated frankly, and Harry was a little surprised. A whole _year_? Sirius had said it took them three years, but Harry had figured that was just because they hadn't had the proper training. But... it would be very unfortunate if he was in a situation where an animal form would have been handy, and he had decided not to try because he didn't want to make a big commitment.

"Yes, Professor," he replied, and she nodded.

"All right. Sit down, and tell me what you might like to be, and what you think you might be," she ordered, sitting behind her desk again. Harry took a seat and was silent for a few moments.

"Well. Since I'm a Gryffindor and I'm supposed to be brave and such, I could be a lion. But-no. Not a lion. I don't really know what I'd _like_ to be. I don't really have a preference, I guess." He was silent again for a few seconds before an idea came upon him. He tried to push it away, because though he didn't have anything he'd _like_ to be, he _certainly_ did not want to be that. But... did he really have a choice?

"I might be-" he started, but stopped. McGonnagal looked at him curiously. "I think I might become a snake."

"Why?" she asked, looking rather confused. Harry took in a breath. The more he thought about it, the more he was absolutely certain that his Animagus form was a snake.

"The Sorting Hat almost put me in Slytherin, and I speak Parseltongue, and...well, snakes do camouflage really well, right? And Dumbledore said that the reason I won against Voldemort all those times was because he underestimated me." McGonnagal was quiet for a while, with a thoughtful expression on her face, before slowly shaking her head.

"No. Animagus forms are supposed to encompass your personality totally. You are too loyal. You are a leader, you don't back down, and you are fierce when you defend those you love. Also, when you attack, you conceal nothing. No poison for you. No, I don't think you're a snake. But we will keep it in mind, in case we don't come up with anything else."

Harry felt the burning of tears in his eyes, a sensation that was coming rapidly familiar. He was grateful to his Head of House, for it seemed like she could see what was bothering him, and understood, and didn't want to declare him unloyal to Gryffindor and banish him to Slytherin. Harry blinked to clear the tears and gritted his teeth for a moment. 'Don't be so childish. You have to save the world. There is no time for tears.'

"Yes, Professor," he said quietly, once he had gained his control. McGonnagal flashed him a rare warm smile before her face became stern again.

"I can tell you that you aren't a house cat. You aren't aloof, or overly self-assured. You aren't a housedog either, since you are no follower, and you don't tend to be blindly devoted. You aren't a fish, or a sparrow, or a groundhog." McGonnagal paused, looking at him for a long time. "Potter, once I asked someone why they had joined the Death Eaters. He replied, 'Minerva, there are predators and prey in this world, and I did what I had to do to survive.' This applies remarkably to your situation, which Albus did enlighten me of, by the way. If you ever need help, you have only to ask me. You have to do what you have to do to survive, and by surviving, save all of us. The world may not ever know of that sacrifice, and it might not approve if it did, but I, for one, am eternally grateful to you." McGonnagal paused again. There was a lump in Harry's throat that he refused to let emerge as a sob.

"Thank you, Professor McGonnagal." She did not reply to his thanks, but continued speaking, but Harry wasn't offended. She had said what she needed to say.

"You are not prey, Mr. Potter. You are a predator. It is not apparent. In fact, most people cling to the hope of your success rather desperately. You are just a teenager, after all, and Rita Skeeter's emphasis on your insanity and love life has decreased the faith even farther. But I see, as I am trained to, that you are capable of using a certain ruthlessness when it comes down to life and death." Here, McGonnagal looked at him sadly.

"Dumbledore obtained the record of all the spells cast that night, just to make sure no nasty surprises would come around later, and there was a Cruciatus curse on that record. The spell was not surprising, but the strength of it was. It was a spell of amazing strength, but it was held for mere moments. The Cruciatus curse requires a large amount of hate and desire to inflict pain. So someone was very enraged for only moments, but could not sustain it." Harry was having trouble breathing. Would he go to Azkaban for casting the spell against Lestrange?

"So do not think, Harry, that you are becoming an evil or dark person. Any wizard or witch on the street worth his salt could cast a three second Cruciatus curse in a moment of intense distress, but they are not able to sustain it. Because they don't have enough capacity to hate. And neither do you."

"Yes, Professor," Harry whispered in reply. She gave him a fleeting, reassuring smile.

"I can only see so much of who you are in class and at meals. Make a list tonight of ways you act in different settings. In the general public, at your relatives, in the common room, with your friends, when you taught that extracurricular defense class, and when you're alone. Bring it here tomorrow at eleven and we'll go through the list and place each characteristic with animals that have it and two other traits of yours. That should narrow the list a little. And don't leave anything out, either. I couldn't care less about your embarrassment."

"Yes, Professor."

"Go. Professor Snape wants to see you in his office."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said as he left. McGonnagal waved her hand.

"It's my job, Potter."

Harry left, dread gathering in the pit of his stomach like a rock, along with anger. Snape was always such a prick to him, and he still wanted to blame Snape for what had happened to Sirius. But that was unfair and stupid and Harry knew it. If he hadn't gotten curious, again, Snape wouldn't have been so upset. Still... he _was_ a greasy git.

The door to Snape's office was open, and Harry saw Snape sitting at his desk, writing something. Well, it bore a small resemblance to Snape's office, and the person at the desk looked kind of like Snape, but it couldn't be. The office, which had formerly been lighted gloomily, just enough to proudly illuminate the jars full of unrecognizable materials, was now lighted cheerily by antique-looking lamps placed on small shelves on the walls all around the room. Instead of shelves holding jars, however, there were closed cabinets made of oak, concealing the unattractive jars, attractively. As for _Snape_, well... he looked _very _different. That black hair, which had always been so greasy, was looking properly washed and brushed and secured in at the base of his neck. And his skin no longer had a yellowish tint, he was just very pale. Harry had to force himself not to blurt out some phrase like, "What the fuck happened to _you_!", which would earn him detention for the next two years and the loss of several thousand house points. Harry had gathered himself and was just about to knock on the doorframe, when Snape looked up and pierced him with those black eyes that had always made Harry just a little afraid.

"What are you waiting for? Come in, and sit down, and be quiet while I finish this," Snape snapped, and Harry quickly obeyed, quietly as a little mouse. After a few moments, he let his eyes wander, taking in the tasteful goldenrod and brown rug under the desk and chair, wallpaper border (on a stone wall?) in matching colors, and a wing backed chair in the corner, with a footstool, in the same colors, and a small side table next to it in oak, holding a book and a lamp matching the others in the room. The title of the book read: _A Tale of Two Cities_. A Muggle book! In Professor Snape's office. There was only one explanation: Snape had gotten married. And indeed, on the ring finger of his left hand, Snape sported a silver ring with a small black gem between two yellow ones. Harry just couldn't imagine who would marry Snape, of all people, and get him to decorate his office in what could be constituted as "warm colors."

"All right, Potter." Harry snapped to attention, regarding Snape warily. "I don't have time for idiotic reassurances, nor do I have time for a person who is unable or unwilling to cast. If you can't do it, and I will know, these lessons are over. For good. You know where I learned these spells, and if you don't want to learn 'Dark magic' (Snape actually made quotes with his fingers. Something was really wrong) get out." Harry suddenly couldn't find it in him to be afraid of his Potion's Master any more. He had made quotes with his fingers, not an action that tended to strike fear into the hearts of the innocent.

"Well, I've formulated the opinion that magic is not necessarily Dark or Light, but whatever the caster would make of it," Harry replied quietly, inwardly smiling as Snape looked at him as if he'd spontaneously combusted.

"Then maybe you aren't totally hopeless after all," the Potions Master finally spat out venomously, obviously loathing every syllable of the statement. Harry didn't reply.

"You will be learning spells that are illegal unless you're in the extremist of situations. I will be refining knowledge of what you already know from teaching your little club, and teaching you how to strengthen and weaken the force of your casting depending on what it needed. I will also teach you how to 'play' (no quotes this time) with the spells to change them slightly depending on your needs. Every spell has more than one aspect to it, and if you alter it a bit, a completely different result will occur. I'll leave the blocking to Gab--Professor Gabriel. We might practice to the Unforgiveables, but I doubt you have the skill or the will. You also have to understand your magic. The incantations are not completely necessary. The spells' names and wand movements are used to trigger a part of your brain that remembers the actions and words and associates them with the memory of the spell, triggering your magic to be used in that particular way. If you are capable, we will start trying to train you to merely think the incantation. Sometimes, stealth is needed. Also, just thinking the incantation is the basis for wandless magic, which Dumbledore might want to teach you one day. Come back tomorrow afternoon after lunch, and we'll begin." Snape paused, and there was a knock on the doorframe. A strange expression crossed Snape's face and Harry turned to see Gabriel leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed, a grin upon his face, and his eyes sparkling. That, coupled with the leather pants and ear piercing made Gabriel look rather dangerous and something else that Harry was not going to name. Snape had a look similar to that of a deer that was about to be hit by a car.

"Hello Severus. A...word?" Gabriel purred. Snape's scared look turned to anger.

"I'm. With. A. Student," the Potions Master hissed, and Harry couldn't help but flinch. Snape_ was _rather scary.

"I know, Sev, but he was just leaving. Weren't you, Harry?" Sev?

"Uh...yeah," Harry quavered, moving to get up.

"Sit, Potter," Snape ordered. Harry sat.

"But Sev," Gabriel whined, drawing Sev out into three syllables, "I need to wish you a _proper_ happy birthday." (Snape had birthdays?) The last part was purred. Snape's face started to flush along the cheekbones, and he gritted his teeth.

"Go, Potter. Don't forget to come back tomorrow," Snape bit out through clenched teeth. Harry got out of his chair quickly, and headed for the door. The second he got out, the door slammed shut, and a silencing spell snapped into place. Harry walked to the Great Hall, his cheeks flaming. He had no doubt what the two were doing, because Gabriel sported a ring with a yellow gem in between two onyxes. Well, it appeared Snape was in some kind of permanent relationship, and a woman had not decorated his office. Harry had an inkling feeling that this was going to be an interesting year indeed.

XXX

Thanks for reading! Please review!

-Allika


	3. Chapter Three

All righty then. Chaper three. You have no idea how amazing it is for me to finally be able to share me work, and to know that people actually like it. When I lived with dad and stepmonster, they always made me feel like a freak because I wrote slash and read it. They read everything I had ever written, and even hetero novels were tossed because it wasn't conservative enough for them. So, thank you all so much. Now, I know I told you a little about what was going to happen this chapter. By the way, if you haven't noticed yet, this is slash.

**A.N. **A few grammatical changes, nothing really important in content.

Disclaimer: Greg, Katherine, Gabriel, and Liam are all mine (hisses territorially) sadly, the rest are not.

_**Harry Potter and the Alliance of Blood**_

**Chapter Three**

Harry walked into the Great Hall for lunch, still feeling rather dazed. The room was empty, except for Greg, who seemed to be just sitting down. Harry walked over and took the seat across from him, and food bloomed on the empty plates.

"So where's Katherine?" Harry asked as he selected his meal.

"Studying. Of course. Bloody Ravenclaws," Greg replied, rolling his eyes.

"I know what you mean. Hermione never takes her face out of a book."

"Hermione Granger? She's rather famous among our House for hitting Draco," Greg chortled, before lowering his voice into a conspiritorial tone, "Most of us have secretly wanted to do that for _years_. He can be all right if he cares to be, but he's the most spoiled person I've ever encountered." Harry laughed and nodded, agreeing totally. That was one of the main reasons he disliked Malfoy, along with the fact that the Slytherin wouldn't leave his friends and parents alone, and he was a future Death Eater.

"He's still one of the hottest people alive, though." Harry coughed on his bacon, cheeks turning red again.

"He's number two on the list of the Most Eligible Bachelors of Hogwarts," Greg said idly, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. Harry took a drink also, and forced himself to stop blushing. It wouldn't hurt to find out all he had missed while drifting mindlessly through the halls of Hogwarts. Harry was rather susprised he wasn't dead already. If he had failed to notice girls snogging girls and guys holding hands with guys in the halls, Harry didn't know how he had escasped being captured in net by the Death Eaters.

"So, who's number one?" Harry asked, rather curious as to who could beat Draco Malfoy. He hated to admit it, but the Slytherin was rather nice to look at, though, _of course,_ he hadn't been checking him _out _or anything.

Greg looked at him strangely, "Well, you, of course." Harry dropped his fork. He was about to wildly protest when he realized something.

"Well, I don't really count, since I'm the most eligible because I'm the Boy Who Lived," he replied calmly.

Greg snorted.

"Harry," he said, as if speaking to a retarded child, "have you looked in a mirror lately? You're _gorgeous_! If you weren't a virgin I'd probably shag you myself." Harry knocked over his glass of pumpkin juice.

"_What!_ I-you...what are you _talking_ about?" Harry squeaked. Greg burst out laughing for almost a whole minute, while Harry stared increduously at him, his cheeks flaming red.

"You're so cute! The look on your face..." Greg choked out through giggles. After a few seconds, he stopped, wiping his eyes.

"Harry, I don't guess you noticed, but people have been ogling you since the start of fifth year, and you just got better," Greg said gently, still grinning madly.

"But I...I-I'm short, and I'm scrawny, and my hair's always a mess, and I have horrible glasses, and I won't tan!" Harry protested, looking rather frightened of the prospect of people checking him out.

"Some people like people shorter than them, you're not scrawny, you're lithe. And you have rather nice muscles in all the right places, and they're lean, not bulky. Since you're hair's gotten longer, it's been too heavy to stick up all that much, and since it's so adorably messy it looks like you just got out from a long roll in the sack. As for skin, well...I hate to sound terribly girly, but you glow rather like the moon. And your eyes...they're so big and pretty. You could get rid of the glasses. But don't worry, Harry, I could go on about your physical attributes all day."

Harry just gaped at him like a fish as he searched for what to say.

"In any case. Though Draco is the most beautiful ice prince specimen I've ever laid eyes on, you look like someone to fuck all night and wake up next to in the morning. Draco is, stereotypically, a one-night stand, you'd belong to someone for life," Greg said calmly. He looked way too amused. Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Wait a second, you said if I wasn't a virgin... How do you know I'm not a virgin? I could've been with lots of people," Harry declared with more arrogance than he felt. He ignored the earlier statement, as it was completely and patently ridiculous. Greg shot him a look and Harry knew he didn't need to bother.

"Someone's staked their claim on you, anyway, so even if you had shagged half the school you'd still be off limits." Harry was instantly furious, and the rage started to swim up from the depths of his soul.

"_Staked their claim!_ So let me get this straight. Someone declared that I _belonged_ to them?" Harry said quietly, his vision going red. Greg bit his lip.

"Harry, calm down. Nobody declared anything. They just...it's obvious that he likes you and wants you. He hasn't said anything, of course. It's kind of an unspoken agreement among Slytherin." Harry felt the anger rapidly melting away, replaced with weariness.

"I'm sorry. I have a bad temper," Harry said quietly. The food rapidly melted away to be replaced by dessert. Harry sighed. He rather regretted its loss.

"Don't worry about it. Here, eat a creme puff. Sugar always makes me feel better," Greg replied, equally quietly, pushing the plate piled with creme puffs across the table. Harry took one and gave a small smile. They both ate the creme puffs silently.

"So, who is it?" Harry asked, snatching up another sweet. Greg gave a wicked smile.

"Now, Harry, if I told you, that would ruin all the fun. And we can't have that," Greg tsked. Harry scowled, but rolled his eyes and laughed after a moment.

"Maybe for you!" And they laughed and ate creme puffs.

XXX

Harry was rather nervous as he hurried towards Gabriel's office that night. He had missed dinner because he had collapsed into bed after luch, feeling drained, and slept until five before seven. So now he was going at an almost-jog to meet Gabriel, and his insides felt all squishy. He wasn't quite sure why he was nervous, but he figured it might have something to do with the fact that Gabriel was some of vampire king and might try to eat him. Plus, the only time Harry had handled a sword was in the Chamber of Secrets, and his success had been more luck than anything else. He didn't know what he had been expecting when he asked Dumbledore for a way to defend himself without magic, but he hadn't expected swordfights. He could just imagine standing in front of Voldemort, dressed in a fencing suit, with a sword, yelling, "En guarde!" Harry chuckled at the mental image, and it echoed strangely in the empty corridor, sounding strangled and tense. Finally, he reached the door to the classroom, which was open. Gabriel and a man Harry had never seen before were waiting, standing in the light of the sun which had already set, but left a lingering reminded of the day.

"Close the door," Gabriel said, and Harry obeyed, staying at the opposite side of the classroom.

"Harry, this is Liam. He'll be assisting tonight." Harry's eyes went to the other man, studying him. He was in a pair of blue jeans and a green muggle t-shirt, looking just as relaxed as he could be. Unlike Gabriel, his skin looked like he had spent a lot of time outdoors. His hair and eyes were both a golden brown, and he looked a lot less intimidating than the Prince.

"Nice to meet you," Harry said, taking a few steps forward. The Daywalker flashed a friendly grin.

"Likewise."

"All right, Harry. We're going to start with a demonstration of what we'll teach you, and then we'll get started on a couple of blocks. Step back," Gabriel said, and Harry obeyed. Gabriel stepped into his office for a moment and game back out with two gleaming pieces of steel, and tossed one to Liam, who caught it expertly. The swords were fine examples on craftsmanship, both gleaming, their hilts set with engravings and jewels. The two faced each other, and after a moment, Liam gave a nod and the two met in a clash of steel and a few sparks. Harry watched in fascination as the two battled. It was like...a dance. Gabriel's face was set and cool, while Liam was grinning, his eyes sparkling. At first, it seemed Liam had the upper hand. He was driving Gabriel backwards, and the black-haired man put in fewer and fewer swings and jabs and more and more blocks. Harry was sure than Liam was going to win, until he saw the man falter. He was tiring. In the gap, Gabriel brought his sword up, and it met Liams again, and they ground against each other, opponents each trying to push the other back, bearing down furiously. Liam wasn't grinning anymore. Slowly, Gabriel forced Liam to lean back, until Liam pulled away, intending, Harry could see, to execute a quick turn and bring his blade to Gabriel's heart. However, the prince gave a step back, and brought his sword up, and Liam froze, the blade centimeters from his throat. Liam lowered his sword, stepped back, and bowed deeply.

"Thank you, my Prince." Gabriel nodded, and the two turned to Harry, who was staring at them in awe. Then he grinned.

"Cool! I can't wait to do that!' he exclaimed. Liam laughed a little breathlessly. Gabriel smiled.

"So, did you learn anything?"

"Well, Liam was enjoying himself too much. He should've been focused on winning, not having fun. He could've paced himself more, because he wore himself out really quickly. Also, when he broke out of the lock, he should have moved faster, and he didn't have to do that turn to stab you in the chest. He could have just stepped back and brought his sword up. He was either showing off or he wasn't thinking clearly enough to know there was more than one way to get out of the situation without leaving himself exposed for a hit," Harry said slowly at first, becoming more sure of himself as he continued. Sword fighting didn't seem too hard. Gabriel seemed very pleased.

"This isn't going to be as hard as I thought it would be." He stepped into his office again and came out with a simple black leather sheath with a silver hilt protruding from it. He handed it to Harry, who drew the sword. It was simple, just plain steel with a steel hilt. Harry liked it. He looked up at Gabriel.

"Let's get started," he said. Gabriel gave a nod, and they began.

Harry stumbled back to Gryffindor Tower an hour and a half later, feeling rather sore, but happy. Once he got used to the difficulty, Harry knew he would love sword fighting. When he got up to the dorm, he wasn't feeling sleepy, since he had napped for several hours, so he decided to finish unpacking. He hadn't gotten around to it after he arrived on Friday, because he had been so angry and anxious, and he had been rather busy today. The first thing he pulled out was his calendar, and he was startled when he realized that his birthday was the day after tomorrow. He grinned, because that meant he would be able to hear from his friends. But then he frowned, because someones 16th birthday was significant in the wizarding world. Every witch and wizard was born with magic, but it wasn't until their sixteenth birthday, when it seemed magic considered someone fully mature, that their powers reached their full potential. Almost every single wizard or witch born had a specialty power, some type of spell that they could naturally do well. Mrs. Weasley was good at cooking and housekeeping charms, while Fred and George were good at pranking charms, and Neville had an affinity for magical plants. When someone came into their power, they were supposed to immediately decide what to do with their lives, based on their gift. Harry had felt rather bad for one when his friend had turned sixteen in March the prior year. He had complained to Harry that he didn't _know_ what the hell he wanted to _do_, he was only sixteen. When Harry had stared blankly at him, he had explained. It turned out that Ron was one of those people whose powers didn't mature until they were seventeen. Harry had secretly thought that that was a good thing, since Ron had a little growing up to do. Harry wondered then what he actually wanted to be. He supposed he could be an Auror, but he didn't really want to spend his life fighting forces of the Dark after he defeated Voldemort. He was already weary of fighting, and the war had barely begun. Then there was Quidditch. But Harry played Quidditch for fun, for the freedom of flying on a broom, and the thrill of competion. He was afraid that if he made it a career, it wouldn't be a release any more, it would just be something he did so he could eat. So what did that leave? He couldn't think of a damn thing.

"Ah, fuck it," Harry muttered, tossing the calendar back into his trunk, and pulling out a sheet of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a quill. He hadn't done McGonnagal's assignment,and he could unpack later. He dipped the quill in the ink and poised it over the parchment...and drew a blank. Well, he supposed he could start with the easy things first. He was brave, obviously, since he was in Gryffindor. He was impetuous. He was angry. He thought quickly, but not before he spoke. He was defensive of those close to him, though, come to think about it, there weren't a lot of people he was close to. He didn't try to touch anyone, but really wished others would touch him more, but he didn't like strangers touching him. Harry grinned. So he was a tactile defensive touch addict. He supposed it really screwed with someone's psyche when they lived in a cupboard under the stairs. His face fell when he realized that it wasn't funny at all. All right. So, he really wanted to prove himself, and he didn't give up, he was a horrible liar, which is why he supposed he wasn't in Slytherin, he was overly curious, a pretty good leader, he could act compliant when all he was feeling was defiance, he had a tendency to take more reponsibility than he was able, he had a quick temper, and now that he knew that he needed to be more cautious, and sometimes he might not be able to be brave, he was trying to change. Harry set the quill, ink, and parchment on his bedside table. Hopefully, that's what McGonnagal wanted, because he really didn't want to do anymore self-analyzing. Harry sighed and got back to unpacking.

XXX

Harry had arrived at McGonnagal's office promptly at eleven o'clock. It was now 11:45, and the Transfiguartion teacher had yet to look up from his list of traits. Every once in awhile she would mutter a question to him along the lines of "to what extent?" or "do you display this openly or inwardly?" She also kept consulting a large, very battered-looking book. McGonnagal hadn't spoken for a good ten minutes, so Harry started when she spoke.

"You're definetly a large feline. I was thinking a wolf actually, was almost certain, but you aren't dependant on your 'pack,' so to speak. You are actually quite independant, bonding with a group out of necessity, opputunity, or lonliness. The only problem is there are many great cat species. You aren't a lion, since you do the "hunting," unlike the male lion. Snow leopard's out, too. You don't hide." McGonnagal said all this with a distracted air, making "hmm" noises after the snow leopard comment. Harry suddenly realized that McGonnagal was truly in her element.

"All right, Potter," the professor said after a few minutes, putting her stern air back on like a garment as she handed him the book. "Read the big cats section, page 428, I believe, and drop by the day after tomorrow, same time, and let me know what you think. We'll start on some mind-clearing and concentration things then. You can go." Harry murmured a thank you, stood up and walked to the door.

"Oh. And, Harry." Harry turned and looked at her.

"You're doing well." Harry nodded, repeated his thanks, and left as quickly as he could. He had a feeling she wasn't just talking about becoming an Animagus.

Lunch was slightly awkward. Harry had spent a dinner and breakfast with both Katherine and Greg following his and Greg's eye-opening discussion, but Harry hadn't been sure how to incorporate Katherine into this new ease with the Slytherin. Harry supposed that, as a supposedly future, partially gay guy he was expected to suddenly start liking shopping or something and chat with girls all the time. Greg certaintly did. The two constantly talked about "adorable" people, even turning to him and asking his opinion, even though he hadn't told anyone about what Dumbeldore had done. Harry wondered absently whether he had a sign on his forehead that said: I'm destined to be a gay vampire prince's boyfriend!

"He's so cute! All denial-ly and stuff!" Greg sighed in a very dramatic (gay?) manner.

"I don't think denial-ly is a word, and just because Harry doesn't wish to comment on our tastes in men doesn't mean he's in denial. Maybe he just doesn't like talking about guys all the time. Is that it, Harry?" Katherine said in a motherly sort of way.

"Uh...er-I...well...ummmm-" Harry whimpered helplessly, turning red.

"Awwww!" the two exclaimed together, and Harry felt a mixture of mortification, disgust, amusement, and confusion. God, I hope I never _ever_ act like that, Harry thought.

"Why do you think I'm gay anyway?" Harry asked, slightly angrily, though he wasn't quite sure why. Greg and Katherine appeared startled.

"Well, everyone thought so, the older students, anyway. The Cho Chang incident was a big hint, but really, it's just kind of a...knowing," Katherine said slowly.

"And I knew because I recognize the signs. The irrational anger, the equal amount of closeness between male and female friends, the venomous way you started to act towards Malfoy. It was obvious really," Greg stated. Harry stared a little, not sure what to say.

"What do you mean about Malfoy?" he finally said, feeling a growing dread.

"You noticed that he was gorgeous, and acted angry so you wouldn't notice anymore," Greg replied promptly and primly. Harry thought he would have looked like a psycologist on television if he hadn't had perfectly spaced blonde highlights. Harry didn't reply and excused himself a few minutes later, heading for the dungeons. He was quite sure what to think because he had assumed that him ending up with a guy was totally coincidental. He hadn't really thought that he had been gay before, because he wasn't girly or anything like that. But...

He had reached the Potions classroom door. He knocked softly and Snape called in his usual dangerous voice, "Enter." Harry walked in. Snape was sitting at his desk, writing something again. Harry was slightly relieved that it didn't seem they would be going into Snape's office today. A chair was pulled in front of the desk.

"Sit."

Harry sat. Snape stopped writing and looked at him for a long moment, his face unscrutable. Harry found himself remembering the day before and looked away, blushing. Trying to think of Snape as a human, let alone a sexual one, was very difficult, not to mention strange.

"You used _Crucio_ on Bellatrix Lestrange. Why?" Snape finally said. Harry took a breath. The mere thought of Lestrange made the cold anger rise.

"I was angry. She had just killed Sirius and was taunting me. I wanted to hurt her," Harry replied tersely, feeling ashamed. He added a "sir" as an afterthought.

"It lasted merely seconds. Do you know why?"

"She told me it was because you have to really want to harm someone, that righteous anger wouldn't work for long, sir."

"True. Dumbeldore wanted to keep you innocent, Potter, but that is impossible, now. I'm going to teach you how to properly cast the Cruciatus. Go stand over there." Snape gestured, and Harry obeyed. Snape went to stand against the opposite wall, slightly to one side, and waved his wand, conjuring a small black square made of metal that hovered in the air.

"Crucio is a simple spell, which is what makes it so dangerous. Any enraged individual can cast it. Just recall things you hate: events, people, places. You won't be taught this in school, but a trick we were taught is to put those most hated things in a specific part of your mind that you can access at any time. I don't think you have the maturity and experience for that, though. Now, focus on the square, focus on those things you hate, and say the spell." Harry thought about the Dursleys first, but he didn't_ hate_ them. They were ignorant, prejudiced, and falsely superior, along with hypocritical, and he disliked them, but it wasn't hate. Malfoy...it was a rivalry, mostly. Malfoy most assuredly hated him, but everything the Slytherin did was to feel superior over Harry, who couldn't bring himself to hate this rival who, admittedly, spiced up life. Everyone needed an enemy to argue with, not to kill, though that was a role Malfoy would probably fill soon. Now Lucius Malfoy...yes, he hated Lucius Malfoy. He had used an innocent girl out of revenge and an attempt to bring back Voldemort, and he had killed and hurt hundreds or thousands of unknown people, directly or indirectly. Harry hated Umbridge, no doubt about that. Then, Peter Pettigrew, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Tom Marvolo Riddle, better known as Voldemort. They had all been responsible for the death of his family, and they were a threat to his life and sanity. He hated Privet Drive, and the pity he had seen in the eyes of some, and the unfounded judgement in other eyes. He hated feeling helpless, he hated losing, and he hated traitors. The hate swelled and swelled, and he added the hot anger he had always carried, and the cold rage he had recently acquired, and he imprinted this feeling of hate on his memory and knew he could never forget it.

"_Crucio_," he whispered, his green eyes like ice and narrowed in a look Snape had seen only rarely before. The temperature in the room dropped, and a high zing rent the air as the spell hit the black square. Harry stood panting, his face still a mask of hatred, as Snape let out a low whistle as he read the magical readout on the strength of Harry's spell.

"Very, very good. Especially for a second timer. You must hate the world, Potter," Snape said, his voice holding a small, teensy amount of admiration, though his closing sentence was sardonic.

"No, only five people," Harry whispered in reply, as the feeling drained from him, leaving him feeling weak, sad, and ashamed. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Who does the Boy Who Lived hate? He Who Must Not Be Named, Peter Pettigrew, Bellatrix Lestrange. I was sure you hated Dolores Umbridge, but that doesn't leave room for your relatives, and myself, and Draco."

"Professor," Harry said quietly, "you may be unpleasant, and unfair, and hate me for something I didn't do, but there are things more important than you mocking my intelligence or parents. There are things more important than Quidditch and House rivalries. I don't have the energy to hate you and Draco, and the Dursleys are simply a fact or life." Harry was surprised he had dared to speak that way to Snape, but the Potions master didn't reprimand him. He just gave a slow nod, his face thoughtful.

"Wise and true, Potter. Maybe you aren't as much of an idiot as I thought you were. Let's try this again, see if you can sustain that strenth. Now."

"_Crucio_."

Harry walked slowly to the Tower. His head was a jumble of thoughts impossible to gather, and he felt infinetly weary. He hadn't really understood what it meant to have magic until now. He hadn't bothered to think about where it came from, or how he used it, and knowing was strange. Snape said that this knowing was the first thing Voldemort taught a new follower: how to feel the very prescence of your magic, and feel yourself using it.

_"So...you thought he was someone worth following if he could teach you this?" Silence._

_"Yes. Of course, it helped he looked human when I first joined, and that the leader of the Light seemed to be a fool. But I was wrong." The last words were spat._

_"Thank you, Professor, for telling me that." No reply._

_"Cast the spell again, Potter."_

But the magic wasn't disturbing. What made Harry feel confused was how much hate he had, and how much anger. And he couldn't help but wonder if the Dark Lord had the same feeling inside, towards different people. Was he Dark and evil, like Voldemort? Dark Arts were addicting, or so everybody said. What if he killed Voldemort, only to leave the Wizarding World with another enemy, who had once been a saviour? Needless to say, Harry was feeling very depressed when he stumbled up the stairs to his dormitory. Dinner would be in a hour and a half, and he decided to rest awhile before going down.

Harry woke with a start, a scream caught in his throat. He had dreamt of drowing in a sea of blood, and the smell and taste had been so real. He licked his lips and discovered he had taken a bite out of the bottom one. He reached up to touach it and winced, his fingers coming away red in the light from his lamp.

Harry went into the bathroom and grabbed some tissue, applying it to the lip. There was blood on his chin, and Harry decided he might need to go to the Hospital Wing before going to Gabriel's office. Harry's eyes widened and he rushed back into the bedroom, grabbing his wand and muttering, "Tempus." The time appeared, shining green in the air.

"Shit!" It was 11:52. Harry sank down onto his bed with a sigh. He would apologize tomorrow. He cast a charm he had learned from his extensive time in the Hospital Wing. He closed the wound (he had practically bitten through) but it was still sore, and could probably reopen. He would go to Madame Pomfrey tomorrow.

11:56. 4 minutes to go. Harry had the horrible feeling that something terrible was going to happen. Nothing could be normal for Harry Potter, oh no. He was probably going to sprout tentacles or something like that. 11:58. Harry supposed he would have talent in the curse area of magic. 11:59. An idea occured to him. If he focused on his magic, like Snape had taught him, maybe he could feel the change. He rapidly descended into a level of his mind he hadn't known was there, and he metaphorically reached, and he could suddenly feel it. It had a feel to it, though he couldn't identify the magic as a sensation, but it felt cold, and...electric. 12:00. The magic burst in streamers of power, expanding yet remaining the same. It...quickened, and Harry gasped aloud at the sensation. Momentary pain seared over his scar, but it was fleeting, and nothing compared-

_to the pain in his heart. He felt so lonely, and lost, and sad that he wanted to die...no, he had a responsibilty, he had to live. And it would get better, if all went well. Just one more month..._

Harry's eyes snapped open and he found himself lying sprawled across the floor. He tried to sit up, but gave up when his head swam strangely. He felt half in and half out of his body, and kind of floaty.

"At least I don't have tentacles, " Harry murmured, then discreetly checked. After a couple of minutes, he felt almost normal again, and he stood up. He didn't feel any different, like a sudden inclination to go study Tansfiguration. Harry took a deep breath, and reached for his magic, before rapidly pulling back and sitting down on the bed with a rapid exhalation of breath.

"Wow." It felt like, instead of an almost separate entity, the magic was now part of him, running through his veins, infusing the air he exhaled, and it was almost _sparking_ with electricity.

"I really hope this is normal," Harry whispered, knowing instinctively that there was no way it was.


	4. Chapter Four

I only replied to those reviews that especially jumped out at me, but I read every single one, and loved every single one, because I know for certain now that I _am_ a good writer, no matter what any homophobe says. I'll be updating once a week on Friday unless we get a new computer, then it'll be every three-five days. the chapter starts off slow (I can never make present opening interesting), but it gets better.

**Nelly-** I hate those conservatives, don't you? Thanks!

**Banjodog/ladyOneiorous**- You are the best reviewer. You told me what you love and gave some tips. You reminded me of some things I had forgotten! Thank you! i'm saving your review so I know the questions that remain.

**Priss368- **You are so nice! Thanks for your review, your support of Greg Katherine (some don't like them), and for your comment on my brother's selfishness.

Disclaimer: These lovely people or places aren't mine. This specific plot (as far as I know) Liam, Gabriel, Greg, and Katherine are all mine. My preeeccciouuussss.

_**Harry Potter and the Alliance of Blood**_

**Chapter Four**

The next morning, Harry squinted at himself in the mirror for close to ten minutes to see if anything had radically changed. He looked a tad bit different, but that was just because he was looking at himself without a sheet of glass in the way. He'd put on his glasses that morning, and everything had blurred once he'd forced his eyelids to respond to his brain's commands.

"I am just _not_ going to think about this," Harry growled to himself, stepping away from the mirror. After all, the only thing that had happened was that the horrible eyesight that he'd had for going on thirteen years had just suddenly perfected overnight.

"No big deal," Harry said to himself...over, and over, and over, like a mantra, as he showered and dressed. He left his hair just short of dripping, since it took hours to air dry and went down to breakfast, in a rather bad mood, but he forced himself to stop scowling, since he refused to take his bad moods out on anyone. Greg and Katherine were having a rather spirited debate as he approached, though it was completely friendly. Harry took a seat and helped himself to pancakes and tea. He realized they were talking about whether Gilderoy Lockehart was attractive or not.

"He's an egotistical, self-centered..._man_. How could you think he was attractive?" Gregasked in disbelief, sounding halfway between outraged and amused.

"He has the most beautiful hair, and smile, and body, and he's so charming..." Katherine sounded dreamy. Greg snorted, rolled his eyes, and turned to Harry.

"Well? What do you think of him?" he asked casually. They looked at him expectantly, and Harry realized this was a test. They knew he was...not straight...supposedly...and nothing he said could convince them otherwise. If he continued to deny it, they would continue to pursue it, or refuse to associate with someone who was afraid. Harry took a sip of tea and forced himself to look nonchalant.

"He is an egotistical, self-centered coward that almost got my best friend's sister killed, who tried to wipe my memory, removed all the bones from my arm, and used me as a photo oppurtunity every chance he got. He's attractive in a rather...shiny way, which doesn't appeal to me, and his personality pretty much ruins the rest of the picture," Harry replied, a small spot of color coming to his cheeks as he took a bite of his pancakes.

"You're right. But he _is_ attractive outside, but all in all, he's about as pretty as a troll," Katherine said thoughtfully after a few moments of silence. Greg looked at him consideringly.

"Hey. Where are your glasses?" he asked. Harry blushed and tried to think up with a lie...and was unsuccesful.

"Oh...I don't need them anymore. I turned sixteen last night and it seems something happened. Go figure."

Greg's eyes were glinting with a look Harry didn't recognize. "Really. Hm. Would you mind if I tried something with your hair?" The question was so random Harry was taken aback. He stared a few seconds before shrugging.

"I...guess. As long as you don't, you know, dye it pink or anything like that," Harry acquiesced suspiciously. Greg pulled out his wand, pointed it at Harry's hair, and muttered "_Sec_." Harry felt a brief hot sensation over his scalp, before Greg pulled his wand away. The Slytherin and the Ravenclaw stared.

"What? What did you do?" Harry asked, bracing himself. Greg grinned slyly.

"I dryed your hair. It's a French charm that a muggle born witch invented to mimic the effects of a blow dryer, some kind of muggle thing." Harry cautiously reached up and touched his head, expecting poufiness, finding instead a smoothness he had never encountered on his head. He ran his hands down his hair, finding the ends a two or three inches below his collar, longer than it had been.

"It smooths the hair, too. Katherine darling, hand me your mirror," Greg purred. Harry felt vaguely nervous as Katherine mutely handed the mirror to Greg, who passed it to Harry.

"Take a look." Harry slowly raised the mirror to eye level and stared. His normally wild hair was...shiny...and straight. And he didn't look like some kind of owl with his glasses gone. His scar was now completely visible through the straight fall of his bangs, and they were rather long, falling into his eyes. He looked...different. Harry handed the mirror to Katherine without a word, and she took it and replaced it in her bag without taking her eyes off Harry. She missed her mouth when she raised her fork to take a bite of egg. Harry blushed furiously as Hedwig, Pidwedgion, a barn owl, and an unfamiliar falcon swooped into the Great Hall, the latter three toting packages. Hary grinned. He loved birthdays. Pig took several laps around the table, hooting loudly as Harry untied the package from Hagrid and his school letter from the barn owl, after which it departed. Harry grabbed Pig out of the air during the fifteenth lap, and undid the large package as quickly as possible, wondering how Pig had managed to carry it from London. The tiny owl followed the barn owl, looking a little tired, and Harry supposed he would send a reply with Hedwig so he could get some rest. The falcon sat stiffly as Harry undid the small package, looking after Pig with obvious disdain. He left immediatly afterward, and Harry wondered who the present was from. Hedwig helped herself to Harry's bacon.

"Who's all that from?" Greg inquired, looking eager, as if it was his birthday.

"Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and...someone else," Harry replied, opening Hagrid's letter.

Dear Harry,

I'm in France with Olympe. You wouldn't believe the structures these Muggles have come up with. Something called the Eyefull Tower. Anyway, Happy 16th birthday (very special time you know), and keep your chin up.

-Hagrid

Accompanying it was a large box of chocolate and two bottles on butterbear. Harry ate a chocolate, and gestured to the box.

"Have some," he invited Greg and Katherine (who dived at the chocolate) as he opened the letter from Ron and Hermione.

Harry-

We heard that Dumbeldore was taking you back to school. Is everything all right. It must be bad if he brought you to Hogwarts. Everything's fine here, but we wish you could be here. It must be lonely at school. But guess what? Dumbledore dropped by and said that on the thirteenth we could meet at the Leaky Cauldron, and shop for our school stuff together, though we have to have escorts. It'll probably just be Remus or Tonks. Did you get your letter? Wierd right? Anyway, Ron resigned as prefect, said he didn't want the extra responsibility (lazy, you know). He's snarling at me. I think Dumbledore gave it to Dean. I really hate you being alone there, and I asked Dumbledore if you could come here, but he said no, that it wasn't possible. I thought that was strange. Did anything change? Do you feel any different, or anything? I'm very curious about turning sixteen, and I can't wait, and I can't decide what my specialty would be. I'm thinking Transfiguration, or Charms, but Ron said not to bother because I'd probably be good at everything, so I shouldn't bother. Which is of course ridiculous. Have you finished all of your homework. You could probably do rolls and rolls of parchment on Snape's essay about Truth Potions with all those sources. I wish I were there. Don't let that library go to waste, Harry. NEWTs are in just two years and-

Here, the ink made a long, jagged looking line, as if it had been dragged across the paper. Messy handwriting replaced Hermione's neat script.

Hey, mate. Don't listen to her. Catch up on sleep and practice your Quidditch. Happy Birthday!

Ron (and in neater script)

Hermione

Harry grinned widely as he closed the letter. He really did love his friends. In one package was a bottle of broom polish that temporarily changed the color of the wood to any color, in the other box was a silver wristwatch, but in place of the hours were sentences like "Time for class""Time to do homework", and "Time to go to the Hospital Wing." Harry strapped it on and admired it.

"Oooh, I've always wanted one of those," Katherine said, inspecting it and snorting.

"'Time for you date!' Better hope that doesn't happen Harry, with your last fiasco to consider," Katherine joked. Harry rolled his eyes and blushed as he unwrapped the final package, revealing a small, spuare, and flat jewelry box. He had no idea who would send him jewelry.

"Who's that from?" Greg asked curiously, moving his chair so he could see when Harry opened the box.

"I-I don't know," Harry said in confusion.

"Awwww! Harry's got a secret admirer!" Katherine said girlishly. Harry blushed.

"I doubt it. It's probably an exploding charm from a Death Eater," Harry muttered, the last part under his breath. He opened the led and stared. On a thick, shining silver chain was a silver ring, carved with unfamiliar runes. Harry lifted the necklace out of the box and didn't know what to think. Who would send him this? Could it be from...? Harry shook his head, not wanting to think about it.

"Oh, Harry, it's beautiful. It must have cost a lot of money. That's not silver, it's platinum, and it's worth hundreds of galleons. And this much of it, and it's of such fine quality...Someone really likes you, Harry," Katherine breathed, stroking a finger over the dangling charm.

"Put it on, Harry," Greg urged. Harry hesitantly did so. He wasn't comfortable with the fact that someone had spent a lot of money on him. He still wasn't used to presents, let alone expensive jewelry. The ring rested to the right of his heart, and Harry ran his fingers over the slick metal over and over again. God, he hoped that the prince person hadn't sent him this, because it was just too...possesive. Like they were dating or something, and Harry was doing this of his own free will. It made him uncomfortable and slightly angry. The doors to the Great Hall opened, and Gabriel entered, looking slightly frazzled. He sighed when he saw Harry, and walked over to the table.

"Good. You didn't run away or die or anything. Where were you?" Gabriel demanded. Harry tried to put on his most contrite expression.

"I fell asleep, and when I woke up it was almost midnight. Sorry," Harry mumbled, rubbing the ring.

Gabriel tipped his head to the side like a puppy who had heard a strange noise.

"What's that?" he asked curiously, stepping closer to get a better look. Harry blushed and closed his hand about the ring, hiding it from view.

"Oh. Nothing. A gift," Harry said. Gabriel narrowed his eyes a little.

"From who?" he inquired suspiciously. Harry suppossed he was looking out for his sucessor or something.

"I don't know. There was no note," he replied shortly, slightly miffed since it wasn't any of Gabriel's business. The Defense teacher grinned, suspicion gone like a blink of an eye.

"Oh. All right then. Well, have a nice day. I'll see you at seven," the Daywalker chirped. And he swept out, whistling. Katherine and Greg let loose sighs of longing. Harry rolled his eyes and looked at the ring, wondering what it said, and not sure he wanted to know.

OVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOV

The next two weeks were a sort of torture for Harry. He really wanted to see his friends, to know they were safe and that they cared about him. He needed to tell them what Dumbledore had done, and get their reassurances. But he was also dreading the meeting. What if they were disgusted with the implications of the alliance? What if they had grown tired of him...stop it, Harry. Snape had already taught Harry the Imperious, and they had moved on to more illegal curses. He learned the slashing curse that had almost killed Hermione, and the curse his godfather had been hit with.

_"What did Lestrange use on Sirius?"_

_"One version of _Fira_, it's illegal unless used to light a fire for benevolent forces."_

_"Teach me."_

_"As you wish."_

Harry wanted to know all the things the Death Eaters had done to innocent people and return the favor tenfold. He had long stopped caring whether these vengeful thoughts were all right or not. He suppossed spending excess amounts of time with a Daywalker and a former Death Eater did that to you. Harry's knowledge of spells was increasing by one or two a day, and with every spell, Harry felt more confident. I can do this, he thought, I really can defeat Voldemort, if I keep this up. It was a realization that caused immense satisfaction for Harry. It was a strange feeling not to be helpless. The fencing lessons had progressed, and he was learning footwork, speed, and how to trick his opponent. Liam didn't demonstrate as much anymore, since Harry could mostly understand what Gabriel was trying to teach without a demonstration. Harry was also taking advantage of the fact that he could do magic by improving spells he had already learned, relearning those he had forgotten, and teaching himself the ones he had never bothered with. He practiced Transfiguration daily, something McGonnagal had told him would make his initial transformation easier. She was teaching him how to clear his mind, gather his magic, and concentrate fiercely on something at the same time, taking it into him and making the object of his thoughts part of him.

_"I think we need to start doing some process of elimination, Mr. Potter. I think we've got it done to a jaguar, tiger or leopard, but there are several varieties of each, each with different characteristics. Let's start with the jaguar, and work our way around."_

So Harry had spent a whole day researching the anatomy and characteritics of a jaguar, realized that he was _definetly_ not one, and switched to a clouded leopard instead. McGonnagal had him sit cross-legged on the floor, take a relaxation potion, and concentrate on the _Panthera pardus_. Once he thought he had it, he thrust his gathered magic through its core, forcing it to flow through his body and...nothing. He had fallen back on the floor, promptly passed out, and was unconscious for five hours.

_"Hello, Professor! I'm ready to try again. What do you suggest?"_

_"Potter...why aren't you asleep?"_

_"What do you mean? I've been sleeping for the past five hours."_

_"But...how. Goodness, Potter. You should be unconscious for a least a day after you drain your magic."_

_"Really? I wonder...oh. It's because I can regenerate my magic abnormally quickly, or so Dumbeldore told me."_

_"Did he? Hm. I think, Potter, for my peace of mind if nothing else, we'll wait awhile before another attempt."_

Harry got very used to Greg and Katherine's constant banter, and even joined in when he could manage without blushing. They talked about celebrity Quidditch players, people at school, and unknown people spotted in passing. Unsurprisingly, all of these individuals were male. Harry had gotten used to the fact that he was stuck with a male, and he had begun to realize that, besides Cho, he had never been interested in a girl. He had not even been interested in Fleur Delacour. And Harry realized now that he had admired Cho, because she was pretty, and she played Quidditch, but he had never lusted after her, like most males would have. Maybe he was simply, honestly homosexual, and he had started to like Cho because everyone would expect Harry Potter to have a wonderful girlfriend, and he had ignored the romances around him out of pure self preservation. After all, he had been raised among the biggest bigots ever known to man. The Dursleys hated everything that wasn't white, Anglican, straight, British, and their idea of normal. Harry had no doubts as to the reation of the Dursleys if they ever found out, and maybe that's why he had never admitted it, even to himself. Of course, that was all pure speculation.

Harry had cast an Impervious charm on his ring to keep water from his shower off of it, and never took it off. He had grown accustomed to its shine, and the weight of it around his neck, and the strange feeling of safety it gave him, as if someone had cared enough to send him a present. He was now sure whoever the next prince was had sent it, and it didn't really bother him as much. Surely, the person could never hurt him, since they needed him to take the thrown, and surely the person wasn't very unnacceptable, like an insane and abusive sociopath, because, hopefully, Dumbledore wouldn't have put Harry in a fatal situation.

OVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOV

Harry stood in the foyer of Dumbledore's office, staring at the green flames, wondering if he dared go through them. Dumbledore had lectured him on not trying to evade Gabriel, who would be following at a discreet distance, and to try not to get into trouble, or leave Diagon Alley...etc.

"Leaky Cauldron" he said clearly after stepping into the flames. He closed his eyes tightly shut as he whirred past fireplaces, and prayed for it to be over. He hoped that Apparating wasn't as nauseating as Flooing and Portkeying. Harry, by some strange miracle, managed to land on his feet when he was thrust out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron, and he blinked around for a few seconds before-

"HARRY!" was yelped, before a blurred brown figure hurled itself at him and into his arms. Harry was relieved to realize it was Hermione, and returned the hug. She stepped back and stared at him with big eyes.

"Is that you? Wow, Harry, you look...different. Your hair, and your glasses, and your taller than me, and you have muscles..." Hermione said in a rather weak voice, her eyes running helplessly over her best friend. Harry blushed and ducked his head, embarrassed at the praise. He had continued using the drying charm at greg and Katherine's insistence. Apparently, it worked well enough.

"It's nothing," he murmured uncomfotably. Ron, the good friend he was, stepped forward at that moment and clapped his hand on Harry's shoulder, a teensy bit harder than necessary. Harry looked over to find Ron with a look of unmistakeable jealousy is his eyes, and he smiled. He'd be relieved, then.

"Hey, mate. How are you?" Ron asked, warmly enough.

"Things have been wierd, but I'm fine. I have sooo much to tell you guys," Harry replied. He blushed when Hermione and Ron exchanged a strange glance. Harry had taken to dragging out some of his words, and he hadn't realized until now (since he was pretty much surrounded by women and homosexuals) that it made him sound just a tad fruity.

"Let's go get some ice cream, and I'll tell you all about it." They went to Florean Flortescue's, and Harry got a triple chocolate sunday for himself, ron, and Hermione. His friends didn't protest; they were used to his generosity by now.

"So where do we need to go? I need new robes, and more ingrediants for Potions. You guys need anything besides books?" Harry asked, deciding to ease his way into the conversation.

"I need ingrediants, as well, and Ron needs a new scarf. He managed to spill Irreversible Ink on it, though I can't imagine how. So, why did you go to Hogwarts?" Harry had to hand it to the girl, she never allowed herself to be diverted from a subject.

"Well...Remember how I told you how living with my relatives gave me protection from Voldemort? That stopped working. Apparently, the charm was based on the fact that parents used to own their children, basically, and if the ownership changed hands, the spell would no longer work," Harry said slowly. Ron wouldn't get it, but Hermione probably would.

"Ownership." her face had the Look, and her cinnamon-colored eyes were narrowed in thought. "Someone...owns you? This doesn't make any sense." Ron was looking horrified, presumably at the prospect that the Dursleys had owned Harry.

"Basically, Dumbledore made an alliance with the Daywalkers. They're kind of like vampires, and we needed them on our side. And the new leader needed to take his place, but they can't lead without a...mate, and well..." Harry couldn't force himself to finish that sentence. Hermione's eyes widened, as did Ron's, as they both understood the implications of what Harry was saying.

"He _gave_ you to them?" Hermione yelled, outraged. Harry shrunk in his chair a little.

"Keep it down."

"Gods, Harry. How could he? How _could_ he," Hermione whispered, her eyes filling with tears. Ron was just staring at Harry.

"He had to, Hermione. If they had taken Voldemort's side, we would have lost the war." Harry said softly. He looked them each in the eyes.

"I can't be just a teenager anymore. Voldemort is securing his allies right now, and he'll probably attack again soon. Everyone has to make sacrifices. If I have to tie myself to the Prince of the Daywalkers to win this damn war, I will. I really need your support, you guys," Harry said firmly. Hermione sniffed and wiped her eyes, grbbing Harry's hand.

"Of_ course_ we support you, Harry! It's just so awful that you were...bartered. But Daywalkers are very interesting creatures. Powerful. They have some kind of significance in the Wizarding World. It's a legend in old families, but I couldn't find anything on it."

"The Prince shall rise from the shadows and claim his Consort, and Darkness shall be absorbed by the Light. Every creature shall be freed, and the Wizarding World shall live a golden age for three centuries hence," Ron whispered, looking at Harry in wonder. Harry looked at himn questioningly.

"Harry. You're the First Consort. You have no idea...And that makes me, and Hermione...oh wow," Ron said weakly.

"What are you talking about, Ron?"

"It's a prophecy, Harry. It's very long, and it takes ten whole minutes to repeat. It was predicted by Killian during the Dark Reign of Maldus the Cruel. It's been passed down for about three hundred years. You're a _legend_, Harry. On August the third, there's a special ceremony that all wizards to honor the prophecy. Harry, you're practically a _god_. You can't realize..." Ron was shaking his head, and grinning. Harry wasn't quite sure what to say. Why hadn't Dumbledore let him in on the significance of this? Harry started to feel angry, but repressed it, clenching his fists. Gabriel had let him know that when he felt that cold rage it actually affected the physical environment. He didn't want to startle his friends.

"Harry? _Prince?_" Hermione said after several tense minutes. Harry blushed and slid down in his seat. He'd been hoping...

"Oh. Well...the thing is...I guess I should tell you guys..." Harry couldn't finish. He trailed off, his face very flushed. Ron and Hermione stared at him just a moment before Ron let out a whoop.

"I_ told_ you, Hermione! But did you listen? Nooooo. I could never no more than you about Harry. Five galleons, if you please," Ron said with a grin. Hermione rolled her eyes and tossed the gold coins onto the table.

"Well, I noticed too, but I wasn't about to admit it after I'd already bet on it," she sighed. Harry looked from Hermione to Ron, confused. They both smiled at his cautious and hopeful look.

"Harry. Did you really think we'd care? Besides, it was excruciatingly obvious," Ron said, clapping Harry on the shoulder. Harry looked to Hermione for confirmation. She gave a nod, looking very amused.

"It was, Harry. You were so cute and confused," she cooed. Harry blushed but smiled.

"So...You guys really don't mind?" Harry asked timidly, afraid they might be really uncomfortable but weren't letting on so they wouldn't hurt his feelings. Hermione and Ron rolled their eyes simultaneously.

"Nah, mate. But if you try to get me to shop with you, I won't hesitate to kill you." As Harry laughed, he looked at his best friends in the world. I am so lucky I have them, Harry thought, and the Golden Trio stood to go shop for robes and scarves.

OVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOV

I know it's kind of short, but my time to write this was limited. I've finally decided on Harry's Animagus form (you'll be seeing it in later chapters). Harry and the Prince will finally meet in the next chapter or the one after that, but it won't be a 'Harry saw the Prince and knew he was the one for him and ran into his arms. He didn't care they were enemies, he just wanted to shag his mate.' Ugh. I hate all that easy stuff. Oh, no. Harry's going to be the stubborn, naive little arse we all know and love. I'm still kind of debating the Prince's attitude, but it's not going to be "oh I can't believe I'm stuck with Potter" or "oh I've loved him since we first met." Draco has hated Harry until recent events. Now how long he's lusted after him...totally different story. Also, if exclamations,commas, or question marks were left out of the end of quotes, it's the internet's fault, not mine. Sorry!

Review please!


	5. Chapter Five

You guys are probably gonna be _furious_ with me. I always hate the author who interrupts the main story for a side story. However, this is _very important_ to the story. So...I'm sorry. I've been dubbed the next JK! Bow down and worship me...MUAHAAAAHAAAA...squeak...cough...Everybody likes me. I've never gotten better reviews...i love you allllll!

Disclaimer: Not mine

A.N.: These events take place shortly after the end of the school year

_**Harry Potter and the Alliance of Blood**_

**Chapter Five**

Sirius Black was basically dead. That "basically" kept Remus Lupin awake at night. He had been hit by a fire curse, very powerful, (not to mention illegal), but not deadly, just painful. But he had fallen through The Veil, the passage into the world of the dead that was hidden in the Department of Mysteries. And now Sirius, Padfoot...he was gone. But "basically" kept running through Remus's head, and all he could think of was his best friend wandering alive in the afterlife, confused and scared. He couldn't take it anymore. He raided the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library, and found studies that had been conducted after The Veil had been deliberately opened, so the Ministry could discover the answer to a long-asked question:What happens after we die? studies were inconclusive, case closed indefinetly. But...three people had been sent beyond The Veil, and none had returned. Perhaps, if he could find a way to get back...Remus went to Severus Snape, who had sneered at his request, but supplied the book. And Remus had read, and studied, and practiced, and perfected the spell, and had ventured into Knockturn Alley for ingrediants to the potion, waited two weeks for it to be ready...he was ready.

Dumbledore had been working with the Ministry officials in studying the Department of Mysteries, looking for clues to spells cast, and maybe even evidence as to Voldemort's whereabouts. It wasn't hard to convince Dumbledore to give him security clearance, though he was sure the Headmaster was suspicious, and might even know what he was planning, but he didn't stop him. The room was empty, and Remus downed the Sustenance and Focusing potion, and cast the spell that would blast open The Veil for three seconds when he uttered the second part of the spell. Remus took several deep breaths and slowly lifted the curtain. It revealed a seemingly empty alcove, but soft whispers darted off the stone at his intrusion. He stepped through, and everything...shifted abruptly, throwing him off balance. He fell to his kness, and he was no longer in an alcove but kneeling beside a river. The river was wide, black, and shining, and people were swimming across it, only to be pulled under the water, screaming. Others crossed in boats that seemed to make it across. The water must have been shallower in some places than others, because some of what Remus realized were the dead simply walked across. It was a reflection of what the afterlife did to rational thought that he didn't think to wonder why others didn't attempt tp cross their. His side of the river was filled with dobbing, moaning, screaming, smiling, laughing, weeping, talking...souls. he saw couples rushing into each others arms and crossing together. He saw even more others screaming at each other. It was...different than he was expecting, to say the least.

"Remus" a surprised voice asked behind him. He turned and saw Amanda Radcliffe. They had been firends in Hogwarts.

"Amanda."

"But you aren't dead" she cried pleasantly, walking towards him to lay a hand on his arm. She looked...faded, very subtly, but became very obvious when she layed her hand on his sleeve.

No. I'm looking for Sirius. He fell through about a month ago, by accident." Amanda smiled brilliantly.

"Yes, I saw him. He went across the river, looking for James and Lilly. Since you're alive, you can just go right across. You know, because you don't have to overcome your former life. It's a good thing he moved, actually. You'd never be able to find him in this mess. Only the dead have the ability to find the person their looking for." Remus bit his lip, looking towards the river and back to his deceased friend.

"Why are you still here" he asked gently, not wanting to upset her. She just smiled again.

"Oh, I stayed to watch my family. If you look into the water, you can see the life you left behind. I could probably cross, but I'm not sure Id be able to see them. No way to be sure of anything, really. I'm going to wait for Anna, and stay until we can cross together" she replied, her voice wistful as she gazed into the ebony waters, seeing something he couldn't. She ket out a chuckle and turned back to him. He remembered how she had been his friend when he had pulled away from his friends in sixth year. He'd found himself thinking of Sirius in a very non-platonic way, and had been horrified, remembering the prejudices of his Muggle grandfather who he had spent a lot of time with in his childhood. Amanda had been an acquaintance before he had broken away from James, Sirius,and Peter, but had wormed her way into his trust, becoming the only person he would speak to. He had trusted her with his secret because she was dating Anna, the Ravenclaw prefect. They were open about it, and came to no grief, but Remus's Gryffindor courage had failed him. Eventually (after three months), she had coaxed him to apologize to his friends and _'trust them_, for God's sake!', explaining to them why he had moved away the way he had (Yelling in the middle of the Great Hall"Get _away _from me") His friends had given him his space, and when he had profusely apologized (for three days, not bad considering), they had forgiven him, providing he supply a suitable explanation. He had provided a partial one.

_"That's all! You stupid prick"_

That had been James.

_"That is a pretty dumb reason, Remus."_

Peter.

_"You're are best friend, Moony."_

That had been Sirius, at first, but later.

_"You really_ are_ an idiot."_

They had kissed for the first time that night, and Remus had only Amanda to thank. He had mourned when the Death Eaters had killed her and... The spirit of his old friend gave him a ghostly kiss on the cheek, cutting off his thought that disappeared like a whiff of smoke.

"On you go. I'll see you later. Have fun" she chirped, giving Remus a light push towards the river. He turned...to thank her, or say goodbye, or anything, but she was gone. He took a step off the bank, holding his breath, and it was as if his foot had landed on pavement. He spared one last glance at the shore, and walked towards the obscure opposite bank, one single thought, all his fogged brain could manage, high in his mind.

_Sirius_

OVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOV

They stubled hand and hand across the river, each sporting a few more grey hair, and lines. But some of these wrinkles were from laughted. The farther they ventured past the afterlife, the foggier their memories became of it. When they reached the writhing mass of people at the opposite bank, the memory was faded to a vague recollection of horror, and laughter, tears of happiness and sorrow, a reuniting and a parting, of centuries passing, or was it seconds? But then it ceased to matter. All that did was getting...home, a seemingly unfamiliar word. Remus focused on the vaguelly recollected second half of the spell, and uttered the words. They stepped through, and were gone. And the lonely ghost of Amanda Radcliffe watched them go, a happy smile on her lips. Her task complete, she crossed the River of Life, hand in hand with Anna, the Ravenclaw prefect.

OVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOV

I know it was short, and I'm sorry. And I know it was vague, but it was deliberate, because life, and what lies beyond it, is vague. I bet a lot of you are wondering why I didn't talk about the opposite bank of the river. I don't feel it's my place to say what it's like. There'll be another, back to the main story chapter, in about a week. Please don't hate me! Cringes Oh, and in case you're wondering when they arrived back into the world of the living...I'm not telling. MUAHAHAHAAAA...squeak...cough..."ahem"

Review, please! I really do love them, but I just don't have time to acknowledge them all. I'm in three AP classes, and I hate second semester! Curse you, second semester!


	6. Chapter Six

KittenBabyGirl- I'm not quite sure what you mean. Neville has powers yes, but (according to my story) not fully developed ones. if you mean his interest in Herbology, it's just that, an interest, merely hinting at what form his powers will take.

Sheree- Explanation is forthcoming. Patience is a virtue. You can't rush a story. (Wimpass?)

Starrarose-If I recall, I said the next chapter or the one after that, and I said Animgus form in later chapters, not the next. MuAHAHAHAHA...chck chck boom...death scream...

Disclaimer: None of this is mine except the plot, Liam, Gabriel, Greg, and Katherine, and (as far as I know) my version of the Daywalkers.

_The Chapter You've All Been Begging For Like Dogs. _I stayed up until 2 in the morning just to get this to you guys. you'd better be very, very grateful and complementary (and forgiving of my errors)

_**Harry Potter and the Alliance of Blood**_

**Chapter Six**

In the sixth and seventh years at Hogwart's, the Hogwart's letter explained (Dumbledore had given Harry his before his departure), students were expected to decide their future careers and decide their schedules accordingly. A portion of the letter was designated to select their classes for their final years at Hogwarts, and to check and see if they qualified. They had to have two elective classes, and as many subject courses as they had obtained an A-O (at the teachers discretion) on their OWLS, and could drop up to two classes if they had achieved this in all their classes. This portion of the letter was why Ron, Hermione, and Harry were all sitting at a table at Florean Flortescue's, their assorted packages beside them. They had to complete their letters before their booklists were affirmed.

Hermione had dropped Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, and Astronomy, not even considering her decisions. The parchment made a whirring kind of sound, briefly, before an 'accepted' appeared in the blank. She rolled her eyes when Ron and Harry hesitated, looking at each other in a kind of befuddlement, not sure of how exactly to make a decision that would effect their entire lives.

"Harry, Ron. We can't have each class together, and work at the same place. We had to grow up some time," she said gently.

What do you guys want to do for a living?" she finally asked as they continued to hestitate.

"I...well...I've been thinking about it, a lot, and I looked up what I needed to do to be an Auror, and I think I can do it, if I try and I study. But...my grades..." Ron said, looking embarrassed. Hermione smiled at him brilliantly.

"Oh, that's the great thing about these letters! If you apply for a class you didn't get the grade in, it asks for your career choice, examines it and compares it to your records, which include paper grades, teacher notes, etc., and if the system deems you able, it'll give you the classes. So...you'll need Charms, because it's a requirement for everyone, Transfiguartion, Defense, your two electives, and...Potions," Hermione said. Ron made a face, and she gave him a pat on the shoulder. As Ron copied it down, Harry suddenly remembered what he had forgotten to tell them.

"Oh, you guys! You won't believe this!" Harry exclaimed with a grin. Ron finished scribbling down his classes, and looked up at Harry in curiosity as the parchment made the whirring sound.

"What?" Harry couldn't help but grin wider.

"Well...Dumbeldore wanted me to take lessons with Gabriel, he's the current Prince and the new Defense teacher, and Liam, for Dueling Theory and Practice, and McGonnagal, so I could be an Animagus-"

"That's wonderful, Harry! I'm proud of you!"Hermione beamed. Harry shook his head, still smiling.

"No, that wasn't the most important part. I consented to take Dark Arts lessons with Snape, and I went to his office, and it was _decorated_, in _earth tones_. And Gabriel came in, and he and Snape were acting funny, and I get kicked out of the room, and Snape is utterly and completely _gay!_" Harry laughed, the hilariousness of it unbearable now that he had shared it. Ron and Hermione looked at him, dumbstruck, before Ron burst out laughing too and Hermione tried to stifle giggles. She frowned sternly, though her lips twitched.

"Oh! I can just imagine Snape wearing bright colors, and having a high voice..." Ron choked, dissolving into laughter again, Harry following suit. Hermione cleared her throat, and the boys' mirth slowly abated.

"What does your letter say, Ron?" she asked after a few moments of comfortable silence. The red-head paled, his humour rapidly fading, as he took up the letter again.

"Ronald Weasley," he read croakily "all of your class choices have been accepted barring Potions and Transfiguration, the prior of which you obtained a P rating in, when an O was needed, and the latter of which you obtained an A in, when a E was needed. Please write your chosen career/s or career area below." he shakily complied, and the whirring resumed.

"So, Harry. What about you?" Hermione asked him. Harry gave a shrug.

"Not an Auror, since I've spent enough of my time fighting, and not a Quidditch player, because then it wouldn't be as fun anymore, but it's obvious my specialty is the Dark Arts. They've become easy since my birthday, so I guess anything in that area," Harry replied slowly, gauging his friends' reactions. Hermione considered.

"I'd say the same as Ron, though Potions is an option. But there are lots of Dark potions..." Harry wrote all those she had suggested, because a wise man followed a Granger 'suggestion.' His letter whirred. Ron's letter stopped abruptly, and he looked and sighed.

"Accepted," he said with a smile, and Hermione beamed at him and Harry clapped him on the shoulder. And then his letter silenced.

_Harry Potter, all of your class choices have been accepted barring Potions, in which you obtained a P, when and O was required. Please write your chosen career/s or career area below._

Harry considered a long time before he wrote: The Dark Arts Field. He wasn't sure if there was even anything he could do in the field, except be a Death Eater or something. the whirring commenced, and did not abate for several minutes. Harry could just imagine the letter scanning his entire known history, every disciplinary act, every single comment of Snape's on one of his essays...it stopped, and Harry whooped when "accepted" appeared on his letter.

"Excellent, Harry! All right, time for Flourish and Blotts!" Hermione chirped enthusiastically, bouncing off the bench and looking cheerier than she had all day. Ron and Harry followed, exchanging those long-suffering grins. Harry examined his new book list, which had before listed only _Standard Book of Spells: Grade Six_, and now listed NEWT level books in all his subjects, _Curses, Hexes, Jinxes, Countercurses, Remedies, and Defensive Manuever, _and_ Walking in Shadow: The Truth About The Nature of Magic. _He followed his friends into the store, vaguely wondering if his career choice whould be recorded anywhere.

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Harry, Hermione, and Ron strolled casually down Diagon Alley, loaded down with packages, Harry updating them on his lessons, talking about Greg and Katherine, and Ron and Hermione talking about Percy's apology, what they knew about Voldemort's activities (Harry resolved to start getting a paper delivered again), and bits and pieces of their thoughts Harry had missed. Ginny was maintaining a correspondence with Dean Thomas, the business of Fred and George was booming, and no Order members were dead yet. All in all, it was good news. They asked if he was doing okay (referring to Sirius), and about his Animagus studies, and what spells he learned, and even one, rather unexpected question...

"So, Harry. Got any one in mind?" Hermione asked teasingly. Harry stared, uncomprehendingly for a moment before he blushed and shook his head, and she grinned and said nothing more.

They reached the Leaky Cauldron.

"How are you guys getting home?" Harry asked.

"We're meeting Dad at Tonk's house, and he's going to escort us from there. I guess...we'll see you September 1st," Ron replied. Harry nodded, feeling rather sad about leaving his friends. Hermione pulled him into a hug.

"We'll write you, ok?" she whispered, and he nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. Ron clapped him on the shoulder.

"See you, mate."

"Bye." Harry stepped up to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of Floo powder, and tossed it in the flames. With one last wave at Hermione and Ron, he stepped in, intoned "Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardrdy", and was gone.

OVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOV

The remaining two weeks passed in a mixture between a blur and a slow creep, depending on if Harry was busy or brooding. He learned a score of new spells, could hold his own (if Gabriel went easy on him and accidently misstepped) in fencing, and worked his way through the tigers and was ready to try another leopard. On the 31st, his tutors informed him his lessons would halt until a definite schedule could be arranged and they had all adjusted to being back in the yearly rhythm.

_"It'll be a week or two, Potter. I'm sure you shall be simply dying to resume lessons."_

Snape had said in his usual biting, sardonic way. Harry couldn't summon up any hate for the professor. In spending several hours a week with Harry, Snape had slowly gotten used to the idea that the Gryffindor wasn't exactly like his father, and Harry had gotten used to the Potion Master's abrasive manner, and had stopped blaming him, admittedly unfairly, for Sirius's death. Hagrid came back on the 20th, and Harry spent some of his spare time down in the hut, having tea and discussing his lessons, and France. Sometimes they went to visit Grawp, who was starting to make gurgling noises similar to "Harry" (which pleased and confused him by turns). They avoided speaking of Sirius, or anything unpleasant, really, since their last serious conversation had driven Harry away, and Hagrid didn't seem to want to repeat that. Harry also spent a lot of time with Greg and Katherine. He started working with them in the library, talking casually. He learned that Katherine was a Muggle born whose mother had died when she was twelve, and having no living relatives, she had come to stay at Hogwarts during the holdiays. She said this casually, as if it didn't bother her. Greg's reason was not so forthcoming, and he told it to Harry privately.

_"My parents didn't like the fact that I'm gay. They kicked me out and disowned me completely last year. I guess they were disappointed that I wouldn't carry on the family line."_

This statement made Harry wonder what his parents would have thought about him, apparently, being gay, but he shied away from those thoughts, feeling sick when he wondered if he would have been in a boat like Greg's, though he was kind of sure if his mother was willing to die for him, she wouldn't disown him for the fact that he liked boys. Mostly sure. Most of the time, Harry didn't think about the Prince. he really had no idea who it was, and he assumed it was an older person, from outside the school, who Harry would meet in front of Dumbledore. They would do whatever needed to be done, and move their separate ways. A Prince would probably be rather busy, and probably had no interest in Harry at all other than as a necessary evil to assume his throne. But he did brood at his talent with the Dark Arts, and the disappearances and killings of various members of the Wizarding community, and, of course, Sirius, who he missed unbearably. Harry felt indescribably guilty, because he knew that what had happened had been, in a large part, his fault. He asked every deity he had ever heard of, every night, to forgive him and let Sirius know he was sorry. Harry became emotional easily, crying in his bed, feeling the ice of his rage sweeping over him at the slightest thing, and, every once in awhile, a feeling of absolute terror that he could never defeat Voldemort and he would fail the world. And then, though the time had been spasmodic, it was the morning of September 1st.

OVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOVOV

Harry stood on the front steps of Hogwarts, Katherine and Greg by his side, as the carriages driven by thestrals drove up. Groups of students rushed inside, some giving brief greetings to the occupants of the steps. A group of three girls and a guy attached themselves to Katherine, and she waved goodbye to Greg and Harry as they hustled her inside.

"You'll have to run your choice by me, Harry. I know all the gossip," Greg whispered to him. Harry didn't blush, becasue he had long since become used to the seventh year's banter. He nodded with a cheeky grin.

"I'll probably end up with someone horrible," he replied in an undertone, and Greg grinned before spotting someone over Harry's shoulder.

"Patrick!" he cried rapturously, and rushed forward, leaping on a boy with sandy blonde hair and snogging him ferociously. Harry gaped before looking away, blushing. Most people treated the couple with indifference, some had that 'awww, how cute' look on their faces, a few did the same as Harry, and even fewer scowled and looked disgusted. Harry felt easier about his discovery than since he had discovered it. Ron and Hermione approached, both with wide grins, and Hermione hugged him enthusiastically, and Ron gave his comfortably familiar phrase,

"Hey, mate." Harry was about to open his mouth to suggest they go inside, when someone else spoke in a very familiar voice, thought the words were very unfamiliar.

"Hello, Harry." The Boy Who Lived looked away from Ron's face to see Draco Malfoy standing there, his lips slightly parted as if to say something, before they closed, as if he changed his mind. The first thought that ran through Harry's head was 'Jesus Christ he's gorgeous!' He was at least six inches taller than Harry's pitiful 5'7, and his face was heartwrendingly beautiful. The Slytherin's hair was not smoothed back by gel but hung free to the base of his neck, and his formerly grey eyes were a molten silver, burning with an expression Harry had never before seen in his eyes. Harry's next idea was to ask why Malfoy had called him Harry, before his lips parted again, revealing the tips of long, sharp...fangs, and when Harry processed that information, emotions hit him in a confused deluge with the awful _realization_. Panic welled, causing him to breathe in choked gasps, terror, shock, surprise, and then the rage, swimming among them all like a deadly shark. The steps emptied of all but the four sixth years, and Ron and Hermione shivered as a cold, malevolent feeling moved through the air. Harry's eyes were likeemerald ice, cold and hard, and so _angry_, but scared at the same time.

"No," he whispered, his voice helpless,shaking his head. "No. Not you. Anyone _but _you. No." He then spoke determidly, and with a venom rarely heardfrom his lips, "Fuck the prophecy. Oh, and you can fuck off, _your Highness,_" Harry hissed. Malfoy actually flinched, and Hermione opened her mouth to say something, she didn't know what, but Malfoy spoke first.

"Harry-"

"_Fuck_. _You!_" Harry spat. "Come on, guys." He swept inside, and his friends helplessly followed, realizing what was going on but to shocked to know what to say, and to give advise on what Harry should do. They took their seats right before McGonnagal led in the first years, cutting off attempts at conversation. But Harry whispered one word as Axa, Lizza was sorted. It was a tear-filled, heart-wrenching word, muttered in desperation and heard only by two people at the Staff Table, and one who slipped in discreetly through the Great Hall doors, his face distant and cold.

_"No."_

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Ask and you shall receive. I think this reaction is kind of unique, instead of something cliche (Harry sighed happily and feel into his arms "I have loved you since third year") or (He fainted in pure shock) or (He laughed and never stopped) _or_...just kidding. Did you like it? Did I confuse anyone with the letters?

Review!


	7. Chapter Seven

Ok. Someone asked about M-preg and I decided to clear a few things up. I have only a vague idea where I'm going with this story. I would like to eventually do M-preg (harry as the chubby one), but if enough people don't like it, I will close this story sufficiently and write a sequel with that in it. I have no idea how many chapters this will be, or how it will end. So you'll just have to trust me:)

LL- I'm honestly confused about what you mean by personality changes. Of course I don't think gay people act a certain way. If you mean Harry being overly emotional, that isn't a personality change but a combination of repressed stress, and his maturing powers that his hormones aren't used to handling. As for Harry's 'speech', he said he didn't _hate_ Draco. Perhaps Harry realizes what a powerful word this is, hmmm? Just because Harry doesn't hate him, doesn't mean he likes him in any way, shape, or form. Draco, to Harry, is a total bastard who hurts kittens and puppies and little Mudblood babies, and he's stuck with him. There was no blackmail on Draco's part whatsoever. Come on. He's been fighting with Draco _for five years, _I think you would give a resounding no also. Also, realize Harry is a teenage boy, and not even the wisest, oldest individual always practices what he preaches.

Disclaimer: Soooooo not mine

_**Harry Potter and the Alliance of Blood**_

**Chapter Seven**

As the Sorting progressed, Harry's thoughts were in termoil. He was furious at Dumbledore for not being warned. Harry had assumed that Dumbledore hadn't told him the Prince's indentity because he wouldn't have known the name anyway. He was also confused. Wasn't Malfoy's father a loyal Death Eater, and hadn't Malfoy always hated Muggleborns? Why would he defect to the Light side? How had Malfoy, a pure blood wizard, ended up as a Daywalker? Why did Mafoy want _him_, his biggest nemesis? Harry entertained the thought that Malfoy wanted him so he could deliver him to the Dark Lord, but then he couldn't be Prince. There were so many questions, and Harry felt dread in the pit of his stomach, because he knew that he'd have to ask the people he least wanted to talk to for answers. Overall though, was fear, of what would happen next. Harry hadn't realized it before, but he depended on Malfoy as a constant in his life. Malfoy would always hate Harry, Harry would always dislike Malfoy, they would always be at war with each other, whether it be over petty House rivalries or for thier lives. Over the summer, with Sirius's death, Harry had come to realize that in the war, people, many people, would die, and he would inevitably know some of them, be close to some of them. Hermione, Ron, Professor McGonnagal, Hagrid...they could all die. But the Dark side would also suffer casualties, which was harder for Harry to accept than the deaths of his comrades, because he would be directly responsible for the deaths of people he had once shared classes with. He had realized that one day in the not so distant future, he would find himself pointing his wand at Pansy Parkinson, or Blaise Zabini, or...especially, Draco Malfoy, who had sworn personal vengeance on him. And he had also realized that he might find himself looking down at the wrong end of the wand, and into the eyes of someone he had battled in the halls, in the classroom, on the Quidditch Pitch, before he had met them on the battlefield. Those necessary truths had been hard and painful to swallow, and now everything was changing. He would no longer have Malfoy to fight with. Their relationship, set in stone so long ago, had completely reversed, leaving Harry feeling lost, because nothing could ever be the same. He could never pretend that this hadn't happened. He felt indescribable sorrow, that even in this, things hadn't worked out the way he had expected. He remembered then something that had been quoted by one of his teachers: "Men plan; God laughs." Harry sighed as Zion, Kiara was sorted into Slytherin, and braced himself for the inevitable barrage of questions sure to come. Dumbledore said nothing, just nodded his head, and the plates filled. As little as ten minutes ago, Harry would have been grateful for this, but now he sorely wished Dumbledore had given an incredibly long speech. He turned to look at his friends, his emotions still on edge and on the breaking point.

"Harry," Hermione said gently, "is Malfoy...?" Harry gave a bitter laugh.

"The Prince? Yes. Whatever made you doubt it?" he snapped in reply. The rage began to flow upward, exceeding the other motions at a fast rate. The air a few inches from his skin began to chill.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, still in that same, gentle, coaxing tone that one would use to assure a wild rabbit that you weren't going to eat it. Harry opened his mouth to give a venomous reply, but slowly realized he was being childish, and closed his mouth. After a minute, he sighed heavily, burying his face in his hands.

"I don't know, Hermione." Suddenly, all he could think about was the Daywalkers joining Voldemort, and the Light side being slowly massacred, unable to stand against the enemy. He felt a tear leak from the corner of his eye, but he brushed it away hastily. What would he do? What he had to. He had a responsibility to those whom he was the only hope for the future.

"Harry," Ron said slowly, "I don't suppose you've read the prophecy..., I know this seems really hopeless right now, but really...it's not as bad as it seems. It _will_ work out." Harry unconsciously brushed his hand over the ring hidden beneath his robes. Harry gave a weak smile to reassure his friends he wasn't going to go nutters on them.

"I hope you're right, Ron," he whispered in reply. Harry didn't eat that much, and only replied succinctly to his housemates' greetings, ignoring Hermione and Ron's soothings that he was having a bad day.

After the dessert had been cleared away, Dumbledore stood and cleared his throat. The Hall fell silent.

"Students. Welcome back to Hogwarts. I would like to present to you the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Gabriel." There was a smattering of applause. Harry didn't even bother. He wasn't feeling very friendly towards the man right then. Harry had mentioned Malfoy once or twice, and about how much of a prick he was, and the Daywalker had remained silent.

"Also, Professor Liam, the instructor for the new course, Dueling Theory and Pratice." More applause, to which Harry briefly contributed, since Liam hadn't known about his and Malfoy's rivalry.

"As almost all you will know, Voldemort has returned." A gasp of horror at the name, and a fearful silence. Harry suppressed a humourless chuckle at the dark comedy of the whole, dramatic situation.

"Please be assured that all precautions are being taken for your safety, and all efforts are being made to defeat this threat." Harry was sure some of the Slytherin's were glaring at the Headmaster, though he didn't have the guts to look.

"On a brighter note, a Valentine's Day Ball will be held, as per suggestions by Professor Sinistra. This will be quite a lovely event, open to all years. Further details will be given later in the year." Ron gave a soft groan, and Harry felt dread at the thought of dancing. He was _awful_ at it. Hermione, however, was smiling happily, looking very...girly, something quite rare.

"A note to First Years that the Forbidden Forest is off limits, magic is forbidden in the halls, and curfew is at 9 o'clock. Dismissed." The Headmaster caught Harry's eyes significantly, and Harry nodded, sighing in resignation as he stood. He'd known this was coming. Hermione and Ron were rounding up the first years, and Harry whisper-yelled over the din into Hermione's ear.

"I'm going to go speak to Dumbledore. See you later." She nodded, and Harry quickly exited the Hall, heading straight for Dumbledore's office, not wanting to run in to certain people on his way there.

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Harry supposed that Dumbledore had a secret way to his office, because the gargoyle sprang aside the moment Harry arrived to reveal the Headmaster standing there.

"Come on up, Harry," he said, looking very serious. Harry swallowed a lump of nervousness and followed the elderly man up the stairs and into his office. Harry closed the door behind him, and immediatly stepped forward.

"You could have _told me_ that Draco bloody Malfoy was the Daywalker Prince!" he yelled. Dumbledore sighed.

"And accomplished what? Your outright denial to accept it, and weeks to gather ammunition? Besides, I thought that maybe the two of you could speak first," he said calmly. Harry shook his head and rubbed his eyes, dropping down into the chair. They waited in silence. After a few minutes, a knock came upon the door, and Snape, Gabriel, and Draco filed into the room, all taking seats, Gabriel next to Harry, Snape next to Gabriel, and Draco next to Snape. A long silence followed, in which it seemed no one knew what to say.

"What needs to happen for my half of the bargain to be complete?" Harry asked cooly.

"You have to Bond, and stand at Draco's side when he is granted the crown," Gabriel replied slowly, carefully.

"And what exactly, is this Bond?" Harry asked, in that same bored, casual voice. He couldn't show the awful anger, and fear. He had a responsibility. He was no longer a child. Snape coughed, sounding as if he was covering a snigger. Gabriel blushed, and Harry was a little disconcerted, wondering what could make _Gabriel_ blush...wait _a minute_.

"No. No way in Hell," Harry growled, leaping from his chair, moving across the room and as far away from them as he could get. The cold roared like a hurricane, swirling faster and faster within him.

"Rein it in, Potter, " Snape's voice broke through, "I think you've caused enough disasters in your short life." Harry slammed his fist into the wall and raked his fingernails down it, reveling in the pain and violence, but letting it ground him and help push back the wave of rage. He took two deep breaths, sagging against the wall, resting his forehead on the cool stone. He felt drained and slightly ill.

"We'll have to add some self-control to your lessons. You have way to much power for your own good," Gabriel said calmly, as if this was normal. It kind of was, since Harry had taken to having these episodes in the heat of a duel, though never so venemous. He turned back towards the other occupants of the room, Dumbledore's silence, Snape's dislike, Gabriel's caution, Malfoy's..., realizing again that he had no choice. He _had_ to do this. He had no choice. He looked up and met eyes of molten silver, and his breath halted for a second. He didn't recognize the look in those eyes, and wasn't sure he wanted to. Malfoy rose out of his chair and slowly, gingerly approached him, coming to halt about a yard away.

"I...I need...a little time," Harry breathed, feeling strange at the Slytherin's close prescence, marginally disguising the plea in his voice. Malfoy nodded slowly, those eyes containing a softer expression than they usually did.

"Whatever time you need, Harry," the Slytherin said quietly. Harry looked away and nodded.

"I'm going." And he did.

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Ok...I know you guys must _hate_ me right now, but I'm having a horrible case of writers block, and I'm being attacked by a vicious, fluffy, white plot bunny. I will try to update as soon as possible. One thousand millions _billion_ pardons!


	8. Chapter Eight

**A.N.** I don't know if you are aware, but I got the most horrible review I have ever read. I almost cried it was so rude and spiteful. It was a cheap and even less tactful imitation of Simon Cowell. What really got to me though was what the reader was complaining about. Almost every thing he/she asked about was in the story, if she/he had even bothered to _read_ it. Obviously, they didn't bother and complained on something they hadn't even read all the way through,or they were so vapid they couldn't understand the story that everyone else seemed to. I tried deleting the review, of course, but it wasn't anonymous, and since my story was _so horrible_, I doubt the so-called reviewer will actually read this, but this can't remain unsaid. More than one reviewer had a part of the story they didn't like or understand, and they told me so politely, like a mature person does. However, this other reviewer was appalingly rude, so I will reply in the same manner at the bottom. It is because of this review that my story is so delayed. Horrible, I know, but I still have the habit of caring what others think sometimes. I've been going over my story over and over again, trying to see if the review was right, and writing and rewriting this chapter. I finally got over it, thank god, and I'm really sorry for the delay, it won't happen again.

**Also,** there is a story I read awhile ago, and I can't remember what it's called, or who wrote it, or much about the story in general. All I can remember is one scene: Harry and Draco are in the hospital wing. They are veela mates. They've been separated, but Harry bursts through the door, scaring the pants off a younger student, and the two are in a room together for 3-5 days mating. I can also remember that Harry is "displaying" for Draco, showing off, doing dangerous stunts in front of him impress him. You see, Harry knows he is a Veela (or something similar, can't remember), but Draco either has diluted blood of isn't aware, but he finds out and makes for exploding doors and rabid shagging. If one of you could please help me with the title or who wrote it I'd be eternally grateful.

_**Harry Potter and the Alliance of Blood**_

**Chapter Eight**

After Harry left, when Draco could breath again from the wrench of his...mate's departure, he summed up his thoughts with one simple phrase, "I feel sorry for ol' Voldie." Gabriel snorted.

"He isn't ready yet," Snape said quietly.

"But he will be," Dumbledore replied. Draco shook his head, a grin on his face.

"I am so screwed." Gabriel had the audacity to laugh.

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When Harry got to the Fat Lady's portrait, Hermione and Ron were waiting outside in the hall. He felt a strong surge of affection for his two best friends, who would wait up for him.

"Hey, Harry," Hermione said quietly. Harry gave a nod, not trusting himself to speak. Ron was silent.

"Posies," Hermione said to the Fat Lady, who gave a sleepy wave of her hand as the portrait swung open. Without words, the three gravitated towards their regular chairs before the fire. Harry suddenly wondered how three first years had managed to acquire the best seats in the entire common room, before he realized that it was simply because the Boy Who Lived and his "followers" had sat there and no one had thought to question them, even though it was traditional seventh years' first choice. A feeling of bitterness arose within him. They treated him like some kind of nobility, not out of respect, but out of a strange sense of obligation that the entire Wizarding world seemed to have.

"Harry," Ron said carefully, after a long moment of silence, "Malfoy is a git, and probably will always remain so, but...it couldn't hurt to listen to him." At Harry's angry look, Ron quickly spoke.

"I'm not telling you that you should just forgive him, or anything, but...well, obviously Dumbledore wouldn't do this if he wasn't absolutely sure that this wasn't some kind of trick, and everyone has to put rivalries and stuff aside so we can work together to get rid of You Kn-Voldemort." Harry deflated.

"I know that, Ron. It's just...I wish Dumbledore had told me, you know? Because he obviously knew about this Killian prophecy, but he didn't tell me what it was about, or what it would mean, and he didn't tell me what I had to do to fufill the agreement, or who the Prince was. It's frustrating, and I just feel so betrayed, and lost, you know? What's next? Peter Pettigrew sending me roses?" Harry tried to make a joke, but his friends didn't laugh.

"What exactly did Dumbledore say you had to do?" Hermione asked, patting his hand. Harry blushed.

"We have to bond and I have to be present at his crowning." Ron went a tomato red.

"You have to _Bond_ with him? Are they crazy?" he exclaimed. For once, Hermione seemed just as confused as Harry. Ron looked at each of his two friends, incredulity apparent on his face.

"Harry," Ron's voice was careful, but strangled sounding, "did they tell you what that is?" Harry blushed harder.

"Well, when I asked, Snape...kinda laughed, and so I figured it out." Hermione nodded as she realized what he was talking about.

"Harry! It's not _just_ that you have to sleep with him. Bonding is just that. It ties two souls together!" Harry went from red to pale at a very rapid pace.

"What does that mean, exactly?" Harry whispered. Ron shook his head with a sigh.

"Well, when the Bond is new, you'll need to see and touch each other every few hours, or else you'll get very upset. But since, technically, you and Malfoy are already Bonded, you just need to...wake it up, I'm not really sure what it'll be like," Ron replied, looking distressed for his friend.

"Maybe the reason you didn't feel anything before was because you hadn't come of age, yet. It makes sense, though. You have always been drawn to each other," Hermione said thoughtfully, wearing that look saying she would be going to the library at the first oppurtunity. Harry shot her a glare, more for the principle of the thing than anything else. She shrugged with a mischievious grin that was rather rare.

"Come on, Harry. You two can't resist from fighting whenever you're in the same room," she said, the grin still on her face. "In fact...a small group of people, who shall remain unnamed for their own personal safety, have started betting on when you two are going to, and I quote, 'get it over with and snog already'." Harry opened his mouth in outrage, not knowing what to say. Hermione giggled girlishly, yet another strange behaviour. Ron narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously.

"What's up with you, Hermione?" he asked. Hermione shot a look at Harry (who was still flabbergasted) and smiled.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I can't help it. I think it's...rather romantic," at her friends horrified looks, she hastened to add, "You know, the whole, 'forbidden love' thing, beloved enemies, passion disguised by anger, it's the classic romance novel!" The two Gryffindor boys shook their heads in disbelief.

"I don't think it's romantic at all. Why couldn't Malfoy have just, I don't know, pursued me himself? Why did he have to make it like some kind of...business arrangement?" Harry said, his voice sad. Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance, sharing the 'oh.'

"Harry, if Draco had shown up this year and suddenly been nice, and started flirting with you, what would you have done? What would you have thought?" Hermione inquired carefully. Harry hesitated, then sighed.

"I would have thought he was just messing around with me, or trying to lure me into a relationship to make it easier for Voldemort to get to me," Harry replied, then defensively, "But what else _could_ I have thought? He's been a bastard ever since the second time I met him. He's made fun of all of us for things we can't help, helped out Umbridge, made very obvious he was going to join Voldemort to get back at me...How can I forgive him, you guys? If the whole Bonding thing is the same for us and it is for your paren't, Ron, how can I spend my life with him?" Harry's voice ended choked, and he fiercely forced back tears.

"What am I going to do?" Hermione got out of her chair and enfolded Harry in an embrace, hugging him fiercely. Harry returned the hug hesitantly, then more tightly. He hadn't touched anyone since right before he'd left Kings Cross at the end of fifth year. She pulled back and looked at him seriously.

"Harry. We're going to help you, ok? And we'll always be your friends, always. We'll help you find out about Daywalkers, and Bonding. And Ron will try not to beat Draco up if he continues to be an ass."

"I'm not promising anything, though," Ron said quickly, grinning. Harry laughed, and Hermione gave him another quick hug before rising. She quickly wiped her hand across her eyes, and smoothed back her hair.

"Well, we've got class tomorrow. We'd better go to bed. Goodnight," she said. She started to walk towards the stairs, before stopping and turning back. She bent down quickly, and gave Ron a quick kiss on the cheek. The red-head promptly blushed.

"Just so you don't feel left out," she whispered, before going up the stairs. Ron watched her go, looking rather like a red goldfish. Harry gave him a thumbs up and a smile before starting towards the stairs.

"Harry, do you think she likes me?" Ron asked as he followed his friend up the stairs. Harry laughed.

"Of course. I'm just glad you two are making some progress. I've been waiting for you two to 'get it over with and snog already' since midway through fourth year," Harry said. Ron blushed.

"Was it that obvious?"

"Yep."

"Oh, Merlin."

Harry laughed again.

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When Harry walked into the Great Hall the next morning, Hermione and Ron at his side, he wasn't sure what to expect. Of course he knew it was ridiculous, but he felt that everything should be different, that everyone should know what was going on and treat him differently because of it. Actually, quite a few people looked at him strangely, and Harry was starting to feel rather nervous as he took a seat at the Gryffindor table.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Seamus exclaimed from across the table, and grin from ear to ear.

"What?" Harry asked, alarmed. Oh, Lord. Rita Skeeter strikes again.

"You're gorgeous! What happened?" Harry gaped at him, his jaw dropped, his face flushing red. Seamus giggled.

"You even blush better now! Don't you ever wear glasses again. And what did you do to your hair? We should go out sometime." Harry was at a complete loss for words. Seamus Finnigan had just told him he was gorgeous. How did one respond to a compliment from another male, when one's-betrothed?-mate?-boyfriend?(no)-owner?-was across the Hall, probably able to hear. Surely there was an appropriate response for this situation.

"Er..." That would work.

"You're embarrassing him, Seamus! We all know Harry is partial to the weaker sex," Lavender, who was sitting next to him, purred as she layed her hand on his arm. Harry, if it was possible, blushed harder.

"Er..." He really needed to come up with something to say. Seamus looked like his birthday had come early.

"_I knew it_!" he yelled jubilantly. Harry sank slowly down into his chair, wishing hard that the floor would open up and swallow him. Ron was trying hard not to laugh, while Hermione patted Harry's shoulder soothingly. Seamus, though, wasn't done.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have an announcement to make. It's all over girls!" He had the attention of half the Hall.

"Harry Potter is g-"

"Seamus Frederick Finnigan!" a voice yelled. The Irishman turned slowly to look at Dean Thomas standing behind him.

"Yes, Dean?" Seamus cooed, batting his eyelashes.

"Be nice to Harry, the last thing he needs is people saying something about him that might not be true," Dean said seriously, dropping a brief kiss on Seamus's lips. Harry wondered through his haze of embarrassment how long _that_ had been going on, because he could vaguely recall Ginny dating Dean. And how in the world did he not notice two of his own_ roommates_ being together?

"But _De-e-an_, he blushed! Of course he's gay," Seamus said logically. Dean sat next to him and snagged a piece of bacon.

"Instead of jumping to conclusions, why don't you just_ ask_ Harry here if he walks on your side of the fence?" Dean shot Harry a mischievious look. The bastard. This way, he couldn't say that Seamus had assumed something incorrect.

"Why that's is a very good idea. Thank you, Dean," Seamus drawled sportingly.

"My pleasure, Seamus." Harry poured himself a cup of tea and began to furiously drink it, ignoring the fact that it lacked sugar and was scaldingly hot. Seamus folded his hands in front of him and looked at Harry patiently. Unfortunately, tea cups are not bottomless, so Harry eventually reached the dregs and was forced to set his cup down.

"So...Harry. How was your summer? Make any interesting...discoveries?" Seamus said slyly.

"Er...I had a good summer. Discoveries? What do you mean?" Harry asked nervously, his voice a tad higher than normal.

"You know...emotional epiphanies...sudden realizations, things like that."

"Nope. Nothing like that at all. Completely epiphany-free summer." His voice was even higher.

"Hmmm, re-al-ly," Seamus mused evilly, his face innocent as an angel's. Harry stuffed a sausage in his mouth. Seamus opened his mouth to speak again, but he was interrupted by McGonnagal approaching the table, schedules in hand. Ron gave a relieved sigh when he saw his schedule.

"Good. I was afraid we would have Potions first. Charms isn't too bad for Monday morning," he said. Harry nodded as he glanced over his schedule. He and Ron switched schedules in their silent tradition, even though they always had the same schedules since they always had the same classes. It was a simpler schedule than previous years, with a different two-hour NEWT class for every morning, then lunch, then an elective class, which rotated, and a different NEWT class for every last class. On Friday, however, they had two, hour long NEWT classes in the morning, and two in the afternoon. Ron seemed overly relieved when he found out that the trio shared schedules, except for electives. Harry almost laughed.

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Flitwick squeaked that he was glad to have them back, and began to teach them one of the many cooking charms they would be learning over the next month. The Gryffindors had the class with the Hufflepuffs, but Flitwick told them that they would be sharing all of their other NEWT classes with all Houses. Harry approached the Great Hall for lunch with a feeling of dread, because surely he couldn't escape Seamus's inquisition this time. He sat down at his seat as quickly as possible, pouring himself a glass of grape juice and taking tiny sips that looked like a long gulp. Seamus plopped into the seat across from him, helping himself to the chicken and potatoes in front of him, pouring a cup of tea and liberally adding cream, seemingly oblivious to Harry's concern. Harry, cleverally lured into a false sense of security, put down his glass and put some of the chicken on his own plate, forgoing the potatoes for peas and snagging a biscuit. Seamus waited for Harry to take a bite of chicken before speaking.

"Are you gay, Harry?" As planned, Harry choked on the food in his mouth. Ron gave him a compassionate thump on the back, and Harry took another sip of juice as he blushed and contemplated his answer. He could lie, of course, but Harry hated others lying to him, so that would be hypocritical, and a lot of people knew anyway. Plus, it would be kind of hard to explain if the Bonding thing proved to be true, and he started mooning over Malfoy in a few months, if he chose to go through with it, because _surely_ there was another option. But he could deal with that later. Seamus was still looking for him, waiting for an answer.

"Er...well..." Hermione shot him a stern glance from where she sat across from Ron. It plainly said 'don't be ashamed, you're a Gryffindor for gods' sakes!'

"I-I think...I-no...maybe...I...no...," Harry sighed, "Yeah. I'm gay, Seamus." The Irishman burst out into applause, beaming at Harry proudly.

"That was very brave, Harry," Dean said soothingly, grinning at him.

"Yeah. That wasn't so bad, now was it? First coming out, I suppose. You wouldn't have had to tell Ron and Hermione," Seamus said sagely. Harry nodded, his face still extremely red, embarrassed beyond rational proportions.

"So, are you going to make a big, dramatic announcement, or just tell the people who've heard the rumor and are gutsy enough to ask? I'd recommend the first. They're so much more entertaining and you won't have to fend off the questioners, and since you _are_ Harry Potter, you should be as dramatic as possible. It'll be a big boost to the homosexual community. Because if Harry Potter's gay, why should there a problem. Those purebloods are still pretty suspiscious, like we're going to steal their heirs on purpose or something," Dean said calmly, like Harry coming out of the proverbial closet wasn't that big of a deal. Ron and Seamus laughed, and Harry gave a tentative smile.

"I don't think I'm brave enough to send a letter to the Daily Prophet, but thanks for the advice," he replied with a small smile, to keep the situation light. People at the Gryffindor table, prompted by Lavender and Parvati, who were whispering furiously to anyone who would listen, were talking in undertones and sending glances Harry's way. Some people looked shocked, others didn't look surprised, some shrugged, some (boys) smiled gleefuly, some (girls) looked absolutely devastated, and two or three looked disgusted, and Harry noticed they were Muggleborns, showing that Dumbledore might have been right about the Wizarding world's reception of gay people. The gossip was spreading to Ravenclaw.

'I guess that makes it official,' Harry thought. He wasn't as scared as he thought he'd be.

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Greg smirked in amusement as Draco looked over at the Gryffindor table yet again, his face a mix of frustration and longing.

"What's going on? Everyone's _looking _at him, and he's blushing. Oh, I hate this," the Prince of Slytherin whispered furiously. Greg nudged him in the side with his elbow. Draco glared at him.

"Isn't it obvious? Our Harry just came out," Greg said with a grin and a roll of his eyes.

"_Our_, Harry?" Draco hissed, and was ignored.

"Oh, they just grow up so _fast_. And day now he'll have a boyfriend, and get married, and have lots of little Harrys," Greg teased, applying a mothering voice. Draco gave him a fake shove.

"They better look like me, for their own sakes," he muttered, glaring at the Golden Boy, who was blinking adorably at the Thomas boy, still blushing. 'I couldn't have ended up with someone that no one would stare at, oh know. Someone ugly is just too much to ask for. This is going to be so embarrassing,' he thought, growling inwardly. Greg blinked at him innocently.

"Why, your Highness, who ever said anything about you? I forgot to tell you, but when Oliver Wood was still here, and he and I were dallying, he confessed that he wanted to shove Harry up against a wall and shag him, more than once, and Harry took to blushing at him towards the end of third year, you know."

Draco snarled, bending the fork he grasped. Greg giggled. The Prince was so easy to rile up.

And it was even easier to coax the Boy Who Lived into a crush on the Malfoy heir

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Surprised? Come on, you weren't even the tinsiest bit suspicious of Greg? Please review kindly. Note: Yes, Greg is a Daywalker, and no, Katherine isn't. More details on Greg in the next chapter.

**I have a favor to ask: **I don't own the fifth book, so I need some info from it. I need to know if Peter Pettigrew was apprehended at the Department of Mysteries, and if Bellatrix Lestrange was, and who was on the Gryffindor Quidditch team before and after Harry and the twins were banned, and what year Angelina, Katie, and Alicia were in. I can't really work on the chapter much until I have this info, so someone please include it in your review or email it to me. Thanks!

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curlytop: You have appaling grammer, for one. Another thing, the only thing Harry realized in the first chapter was that the Prince was a male. He had no concept of the term "mated" since, as you said, he was raised as a Muggle. The prophecy Ron was raised on is the equivalent of Christianity in America, it is a base belief. If Jesus appears before you and many others (proving you aren't insane) you're sure as hell not going to question anything he says, or be angry with him because it turns out the Messiah is your best friend. The whole Dumbeldore thing. Let's be realistic here. Dumbledore is the most powerful wizard in the world, except perhaps for Harry, who is grossly undertrained in comparison. He was the only one Voldemort ever feared, a continuing theme in the books, but you might have missed that. As for Draco getting Harry by himself...what would you say if the person who had taunted you, told on you, and practically told you that they were joining Voldemort to get back at you just was friendly and flirting with you all of the sudden. What would Harry have thought? Doesn't take a rocket scientist, to figure that out. The reason the 'what if I say no situation' was never dealt with is because it never occured to Harry to ask, because he realized what would happen by himself, or actually assumed what would happen. It wouldn't make sense for the Daywalkers to go work for the guy who wants to kill their Prince's mate now would it? But I guess you missed that. Also, the full agreement between the Daywalkers and Dumbledore was never fully revealed, but it will be. Harry has no legal wizard guardians, though you might have missed that, too, and if you recall, Dumbledore never said he would force Harry into the deal, Harry agreed because he feels he has been the one who should be making sacrifices, and he hasn't lost anything _personally_, which you would have realized if you bothered to read OotP. Harry's side is the Light Side. How old are you? 12? You seem to have the pre-pubescent attitude of "me against the world." Harry is 16, and emotionally much older than that. Snape and Gabriel are trying to save lives, not preserve Harry's independance. That isn't what teachers and real guardians are for. I resent the whole 'in his pants' thing, because if you caught Dumbledore's explanation in the first chapter, it is much more than that. Harry _is_ being taken advantage of, because in situations like these sometimes it is necessary. Do you not get that by doing this, lives are being saved, including Harry's own? But you might not have caught that. If you recall the 5th book (though I doubt it) all Harry wanted was to be treated like the adult he recognized he needed to be. He doesn't want to be "molycoddled." Conflicting personality and mindset is a part of a teenage life. Harry is going back and forth on this issue, like anyone would, and I haven't seen Harry saying anything akin to "Take me, Draco." Harry has backbone in that he isn't going to just bond, and his anger isn't backbone, it's part of who he is, and what his power is. Harry certaintly isn't being a wimp. He's fighting and will continue to do so for awhile. His main concern as a self-sacrificing Gryffindor, the one that was always present throughout the entire series (though you just might have missed that), was for the Wizarding world, but he's also a teenage boy, who is hurt, scared, and angry. He hasn't given in yet, but you wrote this review acting like he had. All in all, you are rude, and to sum this whole long reply up: Go to Hell.

**A.N.2.** Hey guys, I'm sorry if any of you don't like how I replied to this review, but I was pretty pissed. Listen, if you have questions are want to point out something I may have forgotten feel free to maturely and politely do so, and I will answer any questions, correct any mistakes, or explain any reasoning also politely. If you really don't like my story, _stop reading it_! I really don't care, and I don't want to hear about how awful you think the plot is or how you think slash is disgusting, because I'm not going to alter the story to suit you, or stop writing it. Maybe if every review I had gotten was negative, I would have stopped, but only one was negative, and only three or four so-so. I'm sorry again if you don't like my reply to curlytop, but damn.


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